Written on April 23, 2014

Written on April 23, 2014

Two words: going crazy.

Envisioning the nursery now: pale pink, white and lambs. Lambs are the theme. It just came to me. First and foremost, I love lambs and have always loved lambs. They are soft and cute and gentle. As a little girl I found great comfort in my lamb stuffed animals and read about lambs. I loved a book about a lamb named Timothy who lived with a family (a little girl primarily) until he got too big (much like Clifford) and ate all of the flowers in the garden. I cried and cried and cried when Timothy couldn’t live with the family anymore.

Just like all meaningful things in my life, this theme presented in my mind without reserve, doubt or hesitation. Like “Pink and Pearls” for my name of my blog, like pink and black for my wedding colors, like pink roses and pearls for my wedding theme, my baby’s nursery is going to be lambs.

I told Dr. Kelly my angst at selecting only unisex items (albeit cute ducks and bears) for the baby registry, and she suggested I make an alternate registry, for after the baby comes and is actually ours, with all the girl stuff I want. She told me she didn’t know her daughter was going to be a girl until two weeks before she was born so she made two registries. Each had the same regular items like car seats and diaper pails, but one had girl stuff and one had boy stuff. The thought of that is too overwhelming for me, so instead I have a document (or 50,000) of links to items I will include in our registry once the baby comes, she’s a girl and she’s ours. (It’s not really 50,000) So I have the links and their accompanying product descriptions (and colors choices and sizes if applicable) ready to go, but nothing will be added until it’s time. It’s all the strawberry rompers you can dream of. Oh, and the polka dots and party dresses. (Yes, they make party dresses for 0-3 months.) And bathing suits and sun hats and jammies and gingham and flowers. She needs a party dress for Julie’s birthday party. She needs a sun hat for the pool. She needs 5 million rompers because she’s my daughter.

I canceled my trip to Florida last night. I was supposed to leave tomorrow morning, and be there for four days, for Lauri’s bachelorette. I of course explained the situation to Lauri but told her not to tell anyone since we haven’t shared the news yet. Naturally she was overcome with joy and understood my last-minute cancellation, though it is devastating for me to miss this trip. I had been looking forward to this weekend for like six months. But the thought of being late for or possibly missing the birth of my daughter is something I can’t even fathom. Whether she comes tomorrow or in one week, I can’t risk being late or missing it. There’s never any guarantee I can hop on a plane from Florida and get to Philadelphia in time if I need to. I can’t bear the thought of not being there. So the decision is made.

And having my friends not know what’s going on is eating me up inside. I want to tell everyone but we’ve been instructed not to, since things could still fall through. Especially my best friends: I want them to know. I feel like since this past weekend I have been able to gather more of my thoughts, prepare more emotionally and even get some things taken care of at work in preparation. And now at this point I’ve cancelled my trip, packed an overnight bag, we’ve bought the items we were told to buy for the birth mother in the hospital, and we just wait.

Pins and needles.

I have a list in my mind of things I need to do when she comes and she’s ours. Add the strawberry rompers to the baby registry. Tell our friends. Invite the mothers, invite the brothers, the sisters. Tell work. Set up a doctor’s appointment for when she needs her next round of shots. Start putting together the nursery. Put my lamb stuffed animals in the nursery. (Yes, I still have them) Make sure both cars have car seats and bases. Be prepared to buy new and different bottles with different nipples in case she doesn’t like the ones we’ve chosen. Be prepared to buy new and different diapers and new and different baby wipes. A diaper bag. A pink baby wrap, for me to carry her in, because she’s a girl. Oh, those strawberry rompers.

Take a million pictures but tell everyone nothing can be posted on the internet until the adoption is finalized. The name. The birth announcement. Research things to do with babies in Dublin. Figure out if she can leave the country before the adoption is finalized. (For Dublin in August, of course.)It’s amazing how on April 13 I couldn’t have been more terrified, more unprepared, more shocked, more overwhelmed. A mere 10 days later I am completely and utterly and overwhelmingly ready. 10 days later and I’m all of a sudden prepared to drop everything to be a mom. 10 days later and here I am, with my to-do list that can’t even be started yet. A to-do list in my mind. Tentative items to add to the registry. Strawberry rompers and a lamb nursery. How did this happen in 10 days?10 days later and I want nothing more than for this baby to come, for this baby to be healthy, for this baby to become our daughter. For the health and reassurance of our birth mother. To get the baby home safely and begin what will be the most now-incomprehensible hours and weeks and years of our lives.

In my mind I’m already a mom, despite all the rules of adoption telling me not to feel that way just quite yet. I’m holding this big secret from 99 percent of the people in my life. I’m walking around doing things all the while there’s this alternate potentially future life in which I have this baby girl and she has strawberry rompers and a lamb themed nursery and she has a name. This world that doesn’t exist yet, or even isn’t close to existing. A world in which I have no idea how to enter. It’s the wanting to scream, shout, laugh, cry but having no voice.

It’s the wanting to be in this world that I’ve created in my mind, yet not knowing how.Not having the key. Not even having the door.

It’s just the idea. This beautiful baby, inside of another woman, who has no idea the life and love we have planned for her. The reality is this can’t go on forever. This baby eventually will be born. A decision will eventually be made. No matter what decision is made, our lives will inevitably move forward and another chapter will inevitably begin.10 days ago I said this time is too short. This is not enough notice. Not enough time. To prepare. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The words that came to mind were “daunting” and “panic.”

Now that seems silly. This 10 days has been long enough. Too long, actually. Too long.

In the past 10 days I’ve somehow managed to make this my new normal (something I’m good at), and now the waiting is literally eating at me. In a new-normal way, of course.

Now there’s only one word that comes to mind, and that is her name.