Early this afternoon I went to the post office. I put our three letters of recommendation, the remaining $2450.00 of our listing fee, our pages and pages of paperwork, our "Dear birth mother" letter, our picture collages and a copy of our home study in the mail. I have a feeling the postal worker thought I was slightly crazy because, as I stood in line, I closed my eyes, laid my open palms on the top of the envelope and prayed silently for that one woman who might see it and feel a leading to place her child into our lives.
There are things I can do. I can do an addendum to our home study once we're settled in the new house. I can research lawyers. I can pray. For the most part, however, it's completely out of our hands.
I feel pregnant.
I know how crazy that sounds and it isn't like I'm heaving my guts up or experiencing searing round ligament pain or craving chocolate covered pickles. But when I was pregnant with Garrett it was all I thought about. I wanted to talk about the baby all the time. I worried that people were getting annoyed with how often I discussed the child within me. I feel that way now. The difference is that, this time, I don't have a due date. Someone could choose us in two months or someone could never choose us. It's as open ended as that. But I feel completely wrapped up in this child within--even if it's only, technically, on paper. Even if it's only within my heart. There is a small part of me that feels sorrow over the lack of maternity clothing and the glow that people speak so fondly about. But only because, now that the packet is on its way, I want to shout from the rooftops that we're having a baby...someday.
I am pleased to announce, however, that we are, indeed, Paper Pregnant: Adoption In Progress. And now we wait...