Good bye 2007, Welcome 2008
We are ringing in the new year with two very clear promises - We are not through with our family planning struggle (when will we ever be, really?) and we have tangible hope that we will not be childless by this time next year.
Hope is slippy and sliddy though. It's not always easy (or advisable) to latch onto it - but, we have; we are; we will.
Some updates on our thoughts / plans:
We spoke with Inna ~10 days ago and learned that all adoptions in Ekat are halted. This is both a blessing and a terrible curse. Selfishly, it means that the liklihood of losing Nicholas to Russian adoptive parents has not increased with the wait - a blessing for us - no doubt about it. The obvious downside is that no Ekat babies will be joining their families (internationally or domestically) for a very long time. I find this heartbreaking - for all parties involved.
The first half of 2008 does feel a little barren emotionally. So, I am 'filling' it - 'living' it - creating some things to look forward to (which believe me, pale almost to the point of translucence in the face of what I so so desperately want 2008 to bring us).
Matt and I will spend a week with the California family sometime in late February.
I'm going to spend a weekend at the BC cabin with my longest, closest friend.
My mom and I are spending a long-weekend with my New Jersey aunt (whom I feel I haven't seen in a very long time) sometime this spring.
We have been advised not to visit Nikolai in the flesh before we get our court date (for political, financial, and emotional reasons about which we will maintain our privacy). If this drags out longer than next summer, we're going anyway. My psyche can't process a wait longer than 9 months right now - so, I'm not going to require it. I plan to see my son next June. My psyche is tolerating that.
We're working on other things, too - spiritual, emotional, physical, intellectual health. It's easy to let these things back burner in the midst of painful waiting.
Everything I do and desire to do, however, seems to center around Nicholas.
I want to learn more Russian and some sign language to facilitate his expressive communication when he gets home (18 months is such a frustrating communication age without the language barrier and his receptive language in English will be zilch). But it's hard to learn it right now knowing I have such a long road to walk before I get to try it out with him.
I want to read parenting books (not just adoption / attachment books) specifically pertaining to toddlers, but so much of it feels fluffy and seems to remind me of everything I am and may continue to miss out on with him.
I want to create a self-study of Russian culture and I get stuck planning it for myself when my brain wanders to 'what would I want to know about my culture had I been an international adoptee?'.
I've even considered taking piano lessons (always wanted to learn - never made the commitment), but I'd probably have to start off with kid songs and I don't want to be innundated with kid music - without my kiddo.
Nicholas is everywhere.
He's in the nursery that we were required to finish for him before we were allowed to travel to meet him.
He's in every thoughtful giraffe that we are gifted with love.
He's in the playroom that is starting to fill itself with toys from those who love him and are anxious to meet him. Which ones will be his favorites?
He's in the pictures that pepper our walls and refrigerator and photo albums. He's in the video that I haven't been able to bring myself to watch since his birthday party.
He's in the grocery store when I shop and in the experience when I cook. What will be his favorite foods?
He's in almost every conversation I have with friends and family who ask me if we know anything new. Nothing new. Or how am I doing? I'm hanging in there.
He's in every prayer that I offer up. He's in hundreds of intercessory prayers offered up on a daily basis.
He's at mass when we are. What will it feel like to take him to church the first time? Will he feel overstimulated? How or will he choose to participate as he grows up?
He's in my interactions with Max the dog, wondering how they will be together.
He's in the dog hair on the floor while I'm vacuuming the carpet and wondering if his little fingers will someday be exploring that particular corner of the house.
He's in every toddler I see out in the world when my mind immediately races to 'How old is that child?' 'Will I miss out on that day with Nicholas?'
He's in all of our interactions with our neices and nephews, brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents. Each of them will have their own unique relationship with him. Each of them already loves him in their own unique way.
He's in my dreams at night (though not often enough).
He is burned into my brain like a beautiful, terrifying addiction that I am so afraid isn't good for me and will have to be replaced - his little smile, his adorable giggle, his butt waggle when he crawls, his intrigue with his Daddy, his sleepy cuddlyness, his soft sweet smelling skin, his strikingly beautiful grey eyes, his two teeth...
Nicholas is everywhere, which brings me simultaneous joy and pain.
I am desperately hopeful that 2008 does not require us to grieve him. That would be a cruel, cruel year indeed.
It's not easy to live 'life as usual' when corraling fear about losing one's child. I'm not sure it's even possible. Life just isn't (and, until he comes home, won't be) 'usual'.
We're praying for a miracle in 2008.
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