On June 17th I had written a post describing my rapid and not so subtle unraveling of nerves while waiting for "the call" to say we had been matched with a baby. That day was our 7 year anniversary and we had enjoyed a lovely weekend away. It was in the final hours of that weekend, while walking and enjoying last moments, harbor views, and gorgeous skylines that I invented the "what is the first thing you are going to do when we get the call" game. That, my friends, was the beginning of a truly ugly week of emotions.
I was a mess. I didn't recognize myself in this state of jumbled, crumbling, blubbering emotion. My head did not agree with what was happening to me. Be strong, be patient. You know what you signed up for. Adoption is hard... in every possible meaning of the word. Breath.
I couldn't. I cried all the time.
On a day soon after returning from our anniversary, K, in his gentle way, asked why I thought this particular time was proving to be so hard for me. In that moment, it was clear to me. She had been born. I knew it. I felt it. I was pulled by every fiber of my being into the most clear awakening to the realization, no... the certainty, that our daughter had been born. And, with that came an aching I just don't have the words to explain. The other side of all this emotion was another certainty. I knew I would be okay if only we would just get the referral. I just needed to get my eyes on her. I needed to know in my head what my heart already knew.
Looking back now, and seeing that Miss Luciana was born the day after that post, I can't help but smile. A mother's instinct? And, as promised (or hoped), I am fine. For now. I would happily bring her home today, this very moment, but that was never in the big picture that is adoption. It is simply not our turn. I take great comfort in knowing (another mother's instinct) that she is well cared for and loved. I have had a few tearful moments, but they have come at more reasonable times. For instance, a tear for my son placing pictures of Luciana in an album next to his own baby pictures. Love, love, love. Now, I have more tears for those moments, and fewer in the everyday tasks that might suggest one who has lost her senses while bawling over a commercial for a movie about surfing penguins!!
Right, so to the point of the title of this post. It occurred to me that I had not described how we found out and what we did. It was so entirely without fanfare, that it was almost a second thought to share it... except that I think about it all the time.
I came home after swimming with Leslie & Kathleen. It was after 7:00PM, so I sort of settled on the idea that that day's window had closed. I came home to find K sitting at my laptop. A daring move on his part as I am mildly protective of my laptop. But, before I could shoo him, I noticed a look on his face that sent me jumping into his lap and staring at the screen. There it was. An email. He had not opened it (good choice), but the subject line was all the clue we needed. We clicked, and there she was. We stared. And stared. Cliche alert: Time stopped. I know I was crying, I know we were hugging, but it was one of those moments that truly becomes foggy all around the edges and makes it soft and slow and slightly difficult to remember, except that you know you were experiencing one of the most memorable moments of your life. And, just what did we do when we got the call that turned out to be an email? Well, nothing for about 30 minutes... then we called our parents and cried and giggled and made promises to keep this to ourselves for a few days... then we called more family, and more friends, and then wrote emails and totally blew all the advice we had ever heard about staying grounded and shouted out excitement from the rooftops! That's what we did.