28 February 2010


It's been a long time since I've posted anything.


It's not like me.

We're just kind of living while we're waiting for whatever happens next in this adoption. As such, apparently I've been a bit off the grid in terms of the blog and Facebook.

My days = working, hanging out with the husband, eating well, exercising (yes, I have dropped 13 pounds...that's the equivalent of 52 sticks of butter for anyone else out there who is trying to lose weight), watching the Olympics, going to the library, reading, and spending quality time with a very grumpy cat.


And waiting.

It isn't so bad. People - colleagues and friends - have been very kind. They always ask, "So, what's new with the adoption."

"We're just waiting right now."

What else can I say?

Their kindness reminds me that we're waiting.

As much as I try not to calculate how long we've been waiting or try not to think about how much longer we'll have to wait...it crops up in my mind from time to time. And for a minute or two I get a little sad. Maybe even a little weepy. But then I remind myself that we knew this waiting would happen and that we haven't really been waiting that long and that life goes on.

I can't let myself slip into some kind of stasis until this baby arrives. I can't worry about how long we're going to have to wait.

Life goes on.

19 February 2010


OK, I admit it.

I am addicted.

To the Winter Olympics.

I feel so very sorry for our Plus One in future years.

The winter Olympics will come around again and my little Schmoopie is going to desperately want my attention or she's going to need something from me (like food, a bedtime story or a bandage to cover the horrendously bleeding gash in her leg...) and without looking away from the television I'm going to say something horrible like, "Not now, Honey. Mommy is busy watching her fifth straight hour of curling."*

Poor kid.

I was so tired last night, but I just could not, would not drag myself away from the men's figure skating (long program.) And now today I am feeling a bit zombie-ish.

And it won't be any better tonight...

Ice dancing!

*I am, of course, kidding. I might look away from the television for a minute to deliver the bad news to the kid that Mommy isn't available...

15 February 2010


So, I've been in this funk.

And I think that I'm coming out of it. But it's weird because it just kind of crept up on me. Sneaky-like. Here I thought that I was doing SO WELL...being so calm and cool about the adoption and being perfectly OK with the waiting and then...



The funny thing is that now - after I've had some time to review the footage - I realize that the funk is not about the adoption. Or that I'm in the midst of my Living Healthy for the Little One program (which is going really well, by the way.) For a little while I thought that it might be the combination of those things.


Here's what it is:

I am not certain where my life is heading...professionally.

This may sound strange a coming from someone who is about to take time out of the professional world to delve into motherhood, but it really isn't all that strange. I really do need to think about what's next.

Career 2.0

What is it going to look like?

I've been in my current non--profit career for a while now (like almost 20 years.) However, when I am ready to head back to work I am 100% positive that I will not be returning to what I do now, which in some ways is kind of a bummer because I'm pretty good at what I do. But being good at something and loving it/being able to give it your all are two very different things. I don't love this work anymore. It's exhausting and I'm finding myself burned out. So, the thing is:

What's next? What's Career 2.0?

I don't know what I want to do or be when I grow up.

And really - if I'm honest - I've never known what I wanted to do or be when I grow up. I've pretty much fallen into everything that I've every done professionally.


My first totally grown up job out of college was as an Admissions Officer at a small art and design college. I didn't set out to become an Admissions Officer, but my skills and background in the arts seemed to be a good match for what they were seeking to hire. When I saw the job posting I thought, "Well, I could do THAT."

And a number of years later when I had left the college, another job sort of fell into my lap and I had the same thought, "Well, I could do THAT."

And so I did.

And then I did it again. And again. And again.

I've never had a plan.

Not really.

And maybe I never will. Maybe I have to learn to be OK with that.

But now that we are becoming Plus One, I guess that I'm feeling like I should actually - you know - like HAVE A PLAN. Set a good example for our kid.

It's not exactly something that I'm going to figure out like TODAY. Although I wish desperately that I would have some kind of revelation very soon!

Still, at least I now know the source of my funkiness and hopefully I can continue to pull myself out of it to focus on the good things that are happening right now.

Life is good...Wonderful husband, nice home, I'm healthy, we have great friends and family, and we'll hopefully become Plus One in the very near future...

Really...it's all good.

11 February 2010

You're funky...

I'm in something of a funk.


Your guess is as good as mine.

It's rapidly becoming annoying. Like really annoying.

I thought for a day or two that it was subsiding, but it reared its ugly head again yesterday and today. Feeling kind of grumpy and at loose ends. Restless and not excited about anything.


And tired.

Think I'll head to bed.

08 February 2010

Talking about adoption...

I ran into an acquaintance, L, at an event this weekend. Someone I hadn't seen in a long time, and someone I don't know particularly well.

We are chatting and filling each other in on bits of our news as people who don't know each other well are apt to do at social gatherings. Of course, it comes up in conversation that Chris and I are adopting (because that is the biggest news in our lives right now and I share it with everybody.)

L is surprised to hear about our adoption. She shares with me that she and her husband are just now after a year and a half of trying to conceive considering moving in the direction of adoption, although she tempers that statement by saying, "We're not sure yet and a bit overwhelmed in thinking about it."

No doubt.

She explains that they've been looking into some adoption options. I'm guessing from her description of children who have pretty high needs that she and her husband have been looking at adopting through the foster care system. "I'm not sure that I'm the one who is right for this kind of parenting with these kinds of kids. I mean they need so much and I don't have any experience as a mom!"

I offer to get together and chat with her at any time she wants about our adoption experience to date. Then I launch into chatting about it anyway - about where we are in the adoption and what the waiting is like. Across the room I see my husband chatting with another friend and I say to L, "My only real regret in all of this is that I kind of wonder what kind of little person Chris and I would have made together. That would have been pretty cool."

She agrees.

Are her eyes just the tiniest bit moist with unshed tears?

Is she grieving the child that she and her husband may never have together?

L doesn't try to end the conversation or go dashing out of the event in tears, so hopefully I haven't been too much of a clod by talking about adoption so openly with someone who has been trying to conceive for a year and a half.

It only hits me me now two days later that I am able to talk about our adoption with such ease. Perhaps this is because Chris and I haven't been through what so many couples have suffered in dealing with infertility. No years and years of "TTC" (trying to conceive) as they refer to it in the "ALI" (Adoption-Loss-Infertility) blogging community. Nor have we dealt with numerous rounds of "IVF" (in-vitro fertilization) or any of the other various low- and high-tech procedures that can help an apparently infertile couple to conceive. And thank goodness...no multiple miscarriages and the attendant heartbreak that goes along with all of those missed opportunities to become parents. How other people bear that is just beyond my understanding.

No, that has not been part of our path to parenthood.

When I am talking about about our adoption frequently my conversational partner's first reaction will be something like, "Oh, that's wonderful!" But as the conversation moves along I'll either mention directly that I can't have children or it will occur to whoever I'm talking with that I can't have children and that's why Chris and I are adopting. At that dawning realization a brief look of pity or discomfort (of both) will flash across the face of whoever I'm talking with as they realize that they are speaking with someone who is - cue extremely sad music - infertile.

"How awful. She can't have children," that person might think.

And then I have to reassure whoever it is that I'm talking to that I'm OK with not being able to have children.

Really. It's true. I'm OK with it.

I'm not grieving about it and I'm not spending my time mourning the loss of a child that Chris and I can never have. And I don't hide this from others either. There's no shame in this for me even though in society my worth as a woman might be considered "less than" because of my inability to produce offspring.

To heck with society. This is my reality.

Pregnancy is simply not an option and, as such, I have accepted that fact. As the saying goes, "It is what it is." It would seem that Chris has accepted it as well and thus we are vigorously pursuing parenthood in another way.

Please understand me - I do not wish to in any way downplay or make light of the grief and sadness that other women - other couples - are experiencing as a result of struggling with infertility. I have nothing but compassion for them, hope that they can move through their grief and that they find their way forward in life.

But for me, I'm just in a very different place regarding my path to parenthood. I am choosing to enjoy our adoption experience and live in the moment with it rather than grieving something that can't ever be.

It would seem that I haven't offended or upset L during our chat and at the close of the gathering we exchange cell numbers. We don't make a date to get together, but rather leave it at her calling me sometime if she'd like to talk further about our adoption experience.

I e-mail her the next day to let her know that I enjoyed seeing her and to reiterate my offer to talk about adoption. We'll see if she calls.

I hope she does.

I also hope that L will be OK with whatever path she and her husband end up on to become parents and that they will be OK if that path happens to involve adoption.

06 February 2010

Living healthy...part 2

My sparring partner is old, very solid and thoroughly grizzled. He's seen a lot of fights. Been punched by a lot of people. Looks like his sparring days are numbered. Goes by the name of "Ringmaster."

He quietly waits for me in the same spot everyday swaying gently on his chain. I'm not intimidated.

On go my gloves. My very own gloves. I don't use the ones provided by the gym.

And then we begin.

I approach Ringmaster in my boxer's stance, hands up protecting my jaw. Then I let loose with a right jab and another right jab.

jab-jab jab jab-jab jab jab-jab

The sound my glove makes each time it connects with my sparring partner is deeply satisfying...


Ringmaster sways drunkenly under the onslaught of my mighty right.

I change my stance to offer him my left - my weaker side - but don't give him anytime at all to prepare before I let loose with multiple left jabs...

jab-jab jab jab-jab jab jab-jab

Breathing hard I leave Ringmaster to sway and recover while I make a circuit of the room. By the time I complete my circuit he is still swaying gently, but seems to have recovered enough to continue.


He has no time to defend himself from a right hook.


Two more right hooks.


My first combination - a jab and a right hook.

Soon I add in a few left crosses.


I'm sure that I grunt with the exertion, but the sound of my glove connecting with my sparring partner is intoxicating so I don't care.


Between rounds, my chest heaving with my exertions, I make a circuit of the room then grab a glug of water.

Today another gym member - a man, late 40's or early 50's, balding with a terrible mustache - asks, "Do you mind if I work in a few rounds?"

"Not at all," I reply. "He's my favorite work out partner, but we can certainly share him."


He puts on a pair of the gym's gloves and commences to beating the heck out of Ringmaster, but without much style. I'm pleased to note that my form is better than this guy. I make two circuits of the room while he boxes.

Then it's my turn again. I'm totally focused on my combinations, but a little part of my mind is just vain enough to be wondering if the other boxer is watching me during my round and admiring my technique and the fact that I can hit HARD.

We swap again. And once again.

And then the other boxer throws his gloves back in the box and heads off to another part of the gym.

I put in a few more rounds and then give up myself.

Tapping Ringmaster lightly I say what I always say to him, "Good fight" and then head off to cool down.