When Your Life Becomes a Sitcom

Well the dreaded homestudy was today! We are past it. Thankfully.

But it's just never that easy is it? Nope, not with two kids, two dogs, plus an extra dog because you are watching your friend's for her (I owe her from this incident in which she starred. Plus she has bff privileges).

It all started well enough. We woke up early and started cleaning, doing laundry, reminding the kids for the 1,097th time that day to put their toys back away and stop making forts out of the couch's cushions.

We wait until the end to get ready so that everyone can look spanking clean and new and shiny. I am ready, Brewerman is putting his shoes on, and the kiddos are buck naked in the living room putting on their fourteenth layer of lotion.

I am about to grab cutie-spaz-o the dog to take to Vanerrellian's house (it doesn't like strangers very well) during the homestudy when...

Bam.

The doorbell rings.

I look at Brewerman, time stops...I choke out "No."

"No no no no no."

Oh yeah.

She's HERE! 30 MINUTES EARLY!!

Oh S&*$!

Three dogs start going bizerk. Barking like wild violent animals they aren't.

So I run up to the door, Brewerman shoves the kids in to our room to finish getting dressed, whispering sweet-threatenings to hurry it up already.

I am in full panic mode here. I open the door a half inch and let her know it will be just a second when the door gets shoved open by dog #1, #2, and #3 who proceed to pounce out of the house like this social worker is a juicy steak. I start yelling through my clinched teeth at dogs to get back in to the house.

Dog #1 goes back in, dog #2 stares me down and finally comes back in, but dog #3...my lovely dog...proceeds to take his time peeing on the bush two feet away from the social worker...still peeing....I wait....calling him ever-the-more preciously back in the house now. Finally he trots back in to the house and I tell her to please give me just one second, slam the door in her face, and hush the three crazy barking dogs by shoving them outside then listening to them scratch and whine at the door.

Then I pick up the lotion containers scattered about the living room, throw the leftover dishes I didn't get to in to the oven, slammed the boy's pajamas in the extra closet, and finally Brewerman whispers to me "You need to let her in!!"

Oh yeah.

Finally I let her in. She is nice, thankfully. But I am way off my game. She asks where we should sit and I stare at her blankly and ask her where she thinks. You know, since she just stepped foot in my house for the first time and has x-ray vision to view all the rooms to make that decision.

Brewerman finally comes up and suggests the dining room (which has a light out in the chandelier...fantastic) and then two bouncing boys come up talking at once. One with a shirt on backward. *Sigh.*

We give her a tour (she opens ALL doors including *EEEK* closets, to which the boy's pajamas fall out and I shove back in with my foot quickly). I open my laundry room door which has piles of laundry I was finishing and planning on putting away BEFORE she got here. All the while the boys are running in and out like I just gave them a jelly bean flavored soda.

I text the lovely dear friend of mine Carebearolyn who graciously offered to pick up my kids after their part of the homestudy and take them to daycare. It was either that (and I quote the social worker) "Or we can have them play in their rooms while we talk." Oh silly silly. Play in their....ha...while we....hahahaha. Yeah they were leaving asap.

She asks them questions, very easy sweet questions like "How do you feel about a new brother and sister?" You know what reaction she got? Nothing. Not a twitch in the face, not a word. Oh I take that back, she did get a shrug. A shrug! Ugh. Ah well, at least they didn't mention needles or closets. Carebearolyn comes and picks them up and silence descends....except the whining dogs at the back door.

So now it was our turn to do the talking. Did I mention I was nervous? And off my game? Yeah....I pretty much blabbed her ear off. Every question turned in to a five minute conversation. How long do you plan on living in the house turned in to future plans to buy a boat and ski trips and how much we love to tube and boat safety.

Finally a couple hours later, we were done. She told us to be ready for a 12 - 18 month wait. I guess the families with kids usually wait the longest as most birth parents want childless couples. That sucked. I mean I "expected" 12 months, but to hear it for sure sucked. I mean, it's not like I expected her to walk in and exclaim "I have the perfect birth mom for you!!!" I swear...I didn't. At all.

Pros? We have two kids that are black, which helps since we are in the ABC program that is specifically for black / biracial babies. We are totally open to visits after the adoption and open adoption. We are young (comparatively).

Cons? We have two kids. That is huge. We aren't open to all situations. Lastly, they have quite a few families right now and they usually show the birthmoms the couples waiting the longest first (unless they specifically ask for something that we would offer).

The nice thing is the "stay at home mom" that I will not be isn't that big of a deal. I guess most expectant moms don't ask about that. Huh, well there's that.

So except for talking way too long about every little thing and spouting some nonsense about gifts and non-gifts and lockets, things went well. And afterward we promptly went to a local dive and drank detoxed.

Then since we were minus-kids...we took a nap. It was fabulous!

Now it will be about 6 weeks for the final approval and then we will be on the books. Then it's sit back and wait 15 friggin months.

The Moment You Think "I got this"

We have had some struggles lately with Lil'Dude. I have noticed in the last month or so that he has been a little more hyper...and wiggly. He has had more and more red cards lately, and had a harder and harder time during nap time at daycare. He has been hitting his brother more, becoming a little more aggressive.

Now, there are a lot of things that could contribute. He is growing out of naps, they switched teachers at school, he has been watching a lot of super hero-ish TV, etc. but I know it has a lot to do with him being ready for school and the structure school brings. We are sick of summer here.

I mean - nap time? Let's see....quiet room...ADHD kid.....it's like filling up a blender full of water and telling it not to spill. We work with him constantly so that's not the case either. We cut off all fighting-like TV including the newly-found-love of Power Rangers.

We have talked to daycare about different things to try during nap (helping the teacher prepare for the day, harder school work to do, making him lay down half the time and up at a table the other half), and things to do during the day. But to be frank? I just want school to start already.

School will help, this kid needs structure. He LOVES to learn. He thrives in school. Plus they "have" to work with him. They know how to deal with kids that have ADHD (even though they never saw one minute of it in Pre-K last year because Lil'Dude only went to school there for 2 hours).

So while part of me is balking at the idea that my little boy will be in Kindergarten and really does want to sit down looking at pictures of him as a baby and sobbing hysterically, wiping away snot from my face and talking incoherently about my baby boy.....

There is a part of me that wants to shove him through the door the minute they open and walk away wiping my hands together with a smug smile on my face. Is that terrible? Probably....but all those who read that and judged me have no idea. The ones that are laughing right now and thinking "YES but I can't believe she actually wrote that out loud!"...you know...I got you....we are going to be the ones toasting with a mimosa the first day of school versus sobbing on each other's shoulder.

It's not that I don't want to deal with him or expect the school's teacher to do it all. Not at all, I will be very involved and all that jazz. I just am sick of daycare. I'm tired of dealing with teachers who aren't certified. I am sick of feeling like I have to apologize for my kid. I'm REALLY sick of having to wonder if my kid is going to get kicked out from another daycare. I'm ready to get down to the nitty gritty with teachers and make a plan of attack since they can't kick him out. I'm ready to take him to an environment that I know he is not only ready for, but he needs.

So one more month....just one more stinking month of naps and daycare, and red cards. Of course then I'm in the land of IEP appointments, teacher conferences, and school counselors who tell me I'm crazy. Ah well, armed with a diagnosis from my doctor, my newly-found confidence, and a kid that loves to learn?

We got this.

Maybe. Hopefully. Probably.

Okay so we got this-ish.

And hell if we don't got this, well I guess we'll just have to change our definition of "this" until we do.


Oh and YES, tomorrow is our homestudy. We got that too. Maybe. We are a little nervous since we asked Lil'Dude yesterday what happens when he gets in trouble and he replied "We get needles put in our arms." WHAT!? Then he laughed and said "Oh wait...I go to time out or to my room." and we smiled.

That is, until Lil'Guy chimed in (with an evil look on his face) "We don't talk about hiding from daddy."

Crap.

Update Scheduled! Added Bonus: The Hiding Incident

Adoption #3 - Step #2: Homestudy Update Scheduled - CHECK!!!

That's right folks - I gots the call!!! The social worker called! The social worker called!

She was super sweet too. Which is great. We are already nervous, we don't want her to be all mean and snarly.

Speaking of which, this is the 3rd time we've been through this, why would we be nervous!? That's pretty ca-razy on our parts. But alas, we are. I can already feel myself want to redo all my closets and kitchen cabinets.....uh oh...

It's scheduled for July 26th. It's in the middle of the day so we will probably just take off work all day. I mean the morning will be spent cleaning (just as every moment between right now and then will be) and the afternoon will probably be spent drinking detoxing.

Oh and then, the most important part, we have to prep the boys.

No no no, not because they could get nervous. This isn't for the boys at all. We need to prep them to figure out what the heck they could possibly say, and maybe mention stuff that might not be appropriate.

Why, you say?

What possibly would we be afraid of?

That brings me to the next part of this lovely blog.
______________________________________________________________________________

The "Hiding" Incident:

I go to pick up my lovely children from daycare. I usually start with Lil'Guy's class because it's first in my route. Plus trying to corral Lil'Dude while talking to Lil'Guy's teacher is a pain in the a&$ much harder than corralling Lil'Guy while talking to Lil'Dude's teacher. Mainly because Lil'Guy is too busy saying good bye to every living person in the center because he is Mr.social pants.

So.

Lil'Guy's teacher and I were talking about his day.

She stops and said to me:

"Yeah....ummmm"

Instantly my face drops...heart races...and I get ready... oh yeah...been there, done that....something's coming

"We had an incident in school today."

Quickly check the other kids to see if any are bleeding or have black eyes.

"I think you might need to talk to Lil'Guy about not sharing stories that could be personal."

Oh crap. Uh oh...bedroom antics. Did he hear us? Oh god oh god oh god. What came out of my son's ever-spewing too-smart mouth!?

She then starts recapping what happened:

It all started, like many great stories start, with a day dedicated to learning about birds.

She asked the class if anyone had a story they would like to share about birds.

My darling lovely cuddlebug-of-a-flower-of-a-sweet-pea-on-a-hot-day child specifically raises his fat little cute-as-a-button hand. She calls on him to tell us the story he would like to share. About birds.

"Sometimes, my mommy and Lil'Dude and I hide in her closet from daddy."

I'm sorry...what?

So like an idiot, in shock, I say something like "they aren't allowed in my closet". She then said

"He specifically said from daddy".

It clicks.

W.T.F!!!!!!!!!
(sorry for the cussing and multiple !!! but seriously. WTF!! I mean...come on...wtf.!!)


At this point the teacher looks at me expectantly and I think I have this combined look of a fish face / pissed / confused / and horrified. I am immediately trying to figure out what the hell my hellion  jerk  mouthy  too-big-for-his-britches lovely son is talking about.

A. They really aren't allowed in my closet. Ever.

B. Hiding from daddy? Psh.

C. WTF!!!!!!

Then I remember...we hide in my closet during a tornado (it has the most reinforced walls around it). Brewerman is usually out in the living room watching TV and coming back and forth. Don't ask me why he said we were hiding from him but my only thought is that, since daddy isn't in there with us, they thought it was a game (??).

And, by the way, Lil'Guy was looking WAY too innocent during this whole time to be believable...I can't prove he did it on purpose...

I tell the teacher about the tornado and being in the closet, spewing and stuttering and trying to glare at my kid at the same time. She gives me this dubious look and just sort of mutters something about just talking to him.

Then my filter leaves. Goes bye-bye. My brain shuts down. I want to convince her. I need  to convince her!!

I start rambling.

That's right. Oh crap. Nothing good comes out of me rambling.

"I mean..." awkward slightly-crazed laugh "...I wouldn't be HIDING..." ringing hands, eye twitching "....FROM daddy...I mean" weird giggle/snort "....I mean if that ever happened..." another creepy crazed laugh "...you can bet your behind that I would not be hiding..." fake cough "...I would be out there with an ax or something."

Yeah Natalie.

Because that made the sweet preschool teacher feel better.

We are supposed to tone down the crazy.


I promptly gave her a weird AH CRAP WHAT DID I JUST SAY smile, started talking way too loud about stupid things I can't remember now, grabbed my loud-mouthed kid, grabbed my other kid (who was a little freaked that I was moving so fast), and got the heck out of dodge.



The teacher told me later that she had the best laugh of her life after that.

______________________________________________________________________________


And THAT folks is why we must prep our children.

If a story like that came from a topic like BIRDS.....there is no telling what these two can come up with when prompted.


Oh and no, I have not, nor will not, share this blog with my social worker. Oh my, no thanks. If you send it to her then I will be forced to kill you. Or just physically hurt you. Bad. Or just a little. Probably I will just talk bad about you behind your back and give you nasty looks the next time I see you.

But it will hurt.

Adoption #3 - Step 1.5: Ready to get Scheduled

Not to brag...but someone got there background checks in!

I mean us.

Just in case you were confused.

See? See!?! Oh man the excitement.

I know I have been on a "woest me" kick lately. But today? Today adoption rocks my socks off.

I'm so excited!! Yes, I am SO excited (earning TWO exclamation points...though if you remember this post you will know I wanted to put six and deleted four)! (!!!) (!)

So phone call time! Any time now....



Still waiting....


Still.


Waiting.

Dear People Who Use the Term: FML

This post isn't directed to those who complain. Not even those that have a few pity parties. Heck, didn't I just have one here and here, oh and here?

This is directed toward all those people who use the term: FML. You know them, they are the same ones that try to one-up your pain with their own more-painful happenings.

Okay, to the guy that just lost his 4 children and wife due to a drunk driver? By all means, say FML. You can paint the term on your back and walk around naked with it if you would like and if it will help. Ignore me from this point on. I admire you just for being able to wake up and walk to the kitchen this morning.

But, have you ever been telling a story, a deep painful thing that has happened to you in your life, and someone pops in with a one-up story about something they went through that was "way" harder than your pain. Your gut reaction is to roll your eyes and do a mortal-kombat style uppercut to their chin....Finish Him...oh 90's Nintendo).  Probably because this person is known to do this. They most likely also post whiny things daily and end said posts with FML.

It's the "my pain is bigger than your pain" thinking. The "my life is so hard". Oh FML!

I can't stand this thinking. It's one thing to have a bad day, or complain because something is going on in your life. It's another to focus all your attention on the negative, and even go as far as to discount someone else's pain to make yours seem worse. And it's another to use the turn FML. Really? F--- your life?! Your LIFE?

You think YOUR pain is bad?! Your car broke down? You have nothing to wear? You have no "real" friends? Your job stinks? Well...

I've been through some painful crap too in my life.

I went through years of infertility. That sucked.

Went through adoption where we had a few dozen "opportunities" fall through. That sucked.

I have a child with pretty severe ADHD and requires a lot of energy to parent. That sucks at times.
*Do I have to add the "I love my kid" fine print here? Nah, it's my blog, if you don't think I love my kid, this is your first post here.*

I had to figure out a way to save up $20,000, three times, for three adoptions. That suckS.

I am not a size 6. If I even think of butter I gain 5 lbs. That sucks.

I have ugly feet. That sucks.

My house lost a lot of it's value due to the economy. That sucks.

I work full time and raise two kids. Okay that doesn't suck, I actually like that part.

BUT

My dryer is going out. Oh wait...nevermind...it's out.

I have 8 flies flying around my head at this very moment.

I now have wrinkles around my eyes.

Related note: I am less than one year from turning 30.

My car is dirty and needs washed which means I need to wash it or try to convince my kids it's fun to wash mommy's car.

I need to buy the kids new clothes because they keep gaining sizes like it's going out of style.

In the meantime, my clothes are actually going out of style. I need new clothes. Yet all my moola is saving for el bebe numero tres.

I took four years of spanish and can't remember a darn thing.

I really want another cup of coffee but can't because then I will become addicted to caffeine again.

My leg scratches. I think I got a mosquito bite last night.

My car is out of gas, like it always is.

I'm supposed to be making a grocery list right now, which means I still need to make my grocery list.

Which means I need to go grocery shopping.

I don't have a boat.

I really want a boat.

It's hot outside. No, like really hot. I know it's Texas and in the summer but it's really hot!

I still haven't heard from the social worker. Rude. I mean, she can call me on a Saturday morning right?

I don't have jelly bellies in my mouth right now.

My family isn't here to make a "that's what she said" joke right now.

I live with three, particularly gross, boys.

I am not on a boat this very instant.

I need to clean my house again.


My tomatoes aren't growing.

I don't have granite countertops.

I have a wedgie.

I have a double chin.

My house phones stopped working. I need new house phones.

My cell phone regularly hangs up on people because I have a fat cheek.

My kids are playing with marbles right now. Seriously. Marbles.

I really need another cup of coffee.

My sunglasses broke a week ago.

And it's hot. And super sunny. I need sunglasses.

And I'm still not on a boat.

Dang. There's another fly!

Both of our cars need a stinking inspection.

I have 'man hands'.

I have hearing loss.

My family doesn't believe me about said hearing loss, despite the doctors TELLING THEM, and are laughing out loud at me right now.

My siblings never did anything and I always had to do everything. 


My nickname growing up was "Nat the Fat".

I was a middle child.

STOP CALLING ME CINDERELLA MOM AND DAD!! 

My kids just broke another one of my things.

My voice is weird.

My blog keeps highlighting random words white and I can't figure out how to keep it from doing that. It's really annoying.

I'm watching food network now and don't live near a drive in, diner, OR dive. 

I survived a pretty nasty case of girls-bullying-other-girls in junior high. 

Pretty sure I have an in-grown toe nail right now.

I need a haircut.

I can't ever have a baby biologically. Game. Set. Match. 



But what game? Who the hell wins? No one. It's a game of "who life sucks more"? Because that's......fun?

Well this same chick was raised in a middle class lifestyle with over-the-top loving parents that raised me right, never really had to want for much, and then found and married the love of her life, has a great marriage, each of us has stable and pretty good jobs, then adopted two amazing children with relatively low drama. I also over-use run-on sentences.

What a hard life I have had. Boy I have really had it rough.

Psh.

I went through some crap, yes, just as I am sure X,Y,Z went through some crap. It's all crap, we all have it. We all have some part of our life that is easy, and some that is hard. You have a child that somehow survived   to the age of two and not die of SIDS? Consider yourself lucky. You have a roof over your head? Lucky. You don't suffer from a terminal illness? Lucky. You can eat pizza daily and never gain weight? I might hate you.

You want a match with someone to see whose life is harder? You will always lose. There is always someone that has it harder than you.

Lets go ask that homeless veteran down the way that suffers through major PTSD and yet is still aware enough to know that he is harmful to others and thus chooses a life on the street where he won't hurt someone.

You will lose. Your life is awesome. If you post another post on Facebook with FML at the end of it, I am going to reach across the plasmosphere that is the internet and b-slap you.

Seriously. Stop.

Take a moment and think of every thing you have in your life, only positives. Look around and SEE. Then the next time someone tells a story of the suffering they have been through, just give them a hug and allow them to vent. If you can relate and want to share, please do. But it's okay if you don't relate, don't try to figure out a way that you do, they don't WANT you to be able to relate, they don't want that for you. They just want to complain a little, for a little while.

And seriously if someone, especially someone that is a parent, says FML one more time I might hurt someone. And by someone I mean them. By hurt I mean maim. By maim I mean slap. By slap I mean take my hand and quickly bring it to their face and swinging through and not stopping for full force impact. By full force impact I mean really hard. By hand I mean the object at the end of my arm with five things sticking out.

It's the one that looks like a man's hand.


P.s. This is just a vent, really if you are my friend and reading this then most likely you are not this person. I have some pretty darned awesome friends.

Adoption Update!!

ADOPTION UPDATE!!




Okay just kidding, I got nothing. Well, sorta something, but in reality it is nothing.

Just a little clarification.

I guess we are waiting for the #$&*(&@ state / federal background checks to come back, which is what is taking so long. I was under the impression we didn't have to wait for these.

I was wrong.

Yay.

Makes me feel better that things aren't just behind, but of course there is zero we can do to speed up the process, and zero they can do as well.

So now we just wait for the clearances to come back. Then we can hopefully schedule something in July for the update, to then be "on the books" by September.


Are you sick of my updates yet? It's like a car that is backfiring...BANG this happens....then nothings....then BANG that happens...then nothing. Gotta love it!!

Patience is not my virtue. Not even a little.

I promised to keep you all updated on our adoption...well this a part of those finer things in adoption that make you want to grip your hair and rip a few chunks out. Boring, frustrating stuff that I promised to share when it happens. Maybe that way you'll know why we have very little hair, are quite fat, and a face full of acne when our kids finally come to us. Stress Eating + Hair Pulling + Zits + Eye Twitching. We will be two very sexy creatures. I'm sure when we meet the birthparents, they will hold up our profile and think...who the heck are these people!? Sheesh they must be REALLY photogenic. What the heck happened to them!?

So.

I am not a patient person. God must have missed that little ingredient when making me. I don't like to wait, I don't like to take my time. I rush and obsess and NOW NOW NOW. I drive too fast, I hate stop lights, the microwave is too slow, can't stand waiting to boil water, texting is too slow....you get the picture.

That being said....after sending in our adoption application on June 4th, rushing around to finish it quickly so we can hurry up and wait, I was just a little impatient to hear back. Then, being told we would be contacted by a social worker in a week or two, and one month later still have no idea when we will be able to schedule our stinking homestudy update.......I'm SICK OF IT!

I mean come on....two weeks...okay a little annoying but passable....three weeks I was fully annoyed but trying to be chipper. A month and I'm pissed.

I called today and basically it's still in financial review (something that is normal and part of the process despite the heart attack I had just then). Supposedly if something was wrong with the file they would have contacted me. So it's all normal. One month later. Oh did I mention that the social worker said "We should be able to schedule you for July when I receive your packet or we might be able to fit you in to September." THEN it's another 6 MORE weeks to get "approved-approved". So we are potentially talking October here to even see our by-that-time-not-so-pretty faces in the books.

Oh and the program administrator who we have been in contact with? I guess she has been and is on vacation for what is now a week and a half. Okay I'm cool with that but it's called an OUT OF OFFICE notification! She will be back Thursday. I will be calling Thursday at 10am.

Okay I'm done venting. I'm still pissed but it would probably be a good idea to NOT show my beotchy side to the people that I am supposed to convince that we will be good parents to. So it's a very delicate "trying to keep that nasty person in the closet that wants strangle someone quiet though she is beating the door down" dance.

DEEP SIGH.

Deeper Sign.

Counting to ten.

Singing NI-HAI-KAI-LAN's "Calm...Calm...DOWN" song in my head.

Realizing I am using a 2 year old's preschool show's calming technique.

Trying to be embarrassed about that but still too mad.

Stupid preschool technique isn't working.

I need a drink.

Then for the love of everything holy please do not let me near a phone or email. Drunk-messaging the adoption administrator would most definitely NOT be a good idea.




P.s. And I know one of you really really want to comment right now about how God's timing is perfect and "our" baby will come when the time is right. You are so right. But. Between you, me, and this hammer I have in my hand right now I would suggest refraining until I am in the right frame of mind to remind me of this. You know...the day AFTER we are placed with a child.

Sucker Punches of Grief

I wrote a little about infertility grief before right?

I have wrote about adoption and Hoo-Rah'ed about how awesome it is. I have talked about coming to terms with your infertility and not letting it consume you. Not letting it eat you up from the inside and using adoption as a "band-aid" of sorts.

I have talked about working through the grief, especially infertility grief prior to an adoption.

Now I'm going to talk about the grief again, but this time I am doing so with the risk of losing a little bit of respect from some people out there. People that don't understand, that haven't walked in the shoes of someone who has never and will never bear a child. I hope I don't. I hope I look like a real person. Unperfect, sometimes strong, sometimes very weak. I hope I don't really screw this up and this come out completely wrong. I hope I don't get hateful comments.

I am pretty raw and this is one of those blogs that I write without re-writing. I don't stop writing until the end and just send it.

It's one of those blogs that I should just not write. Easier that way, less risky. Let's keep it light and fluffy.

But I can't do it. I can't because maybe there is a person out there that also feels that way..and maybe just hearing that someone else goes through it will get through to them.

So here it goes. Deep breath.......



I love my kids.

I love them and love my life every bit as much as I would if I had given birth to my children. More maybe. I love their adoptions, I love our family, I love how it was made.

But.

There are times when I still grieve. Times when I still grieve the loss of the experience of pregnancy. I grieve the loss of never having that feel of a child in your womb. Feeling them grow, watching your body change to accumulate and make this tiny miracle inside you. The grief is not constant, it's not overwhelming..but it's there at random times. It's less and less as time goes on, but grief doesn't just go away. This is no different.

Deep breath....here is my confession:

I had a dream last night. A very very real-like dream. One you wake up from and you are surprised that it didn't really happen. The only time I have i ever had this specific type of dream. I dreamt that I was pregnant. Big full belly and all. I felt the baby in me kick and move. I wrapped my arms around my baby-belly. I laughed at my Lil'Dude and Lil'Guy as they put their ears to my belly and laughed at the sounds. I smiled at Brewerman as he felt the baby kick and looked shocked. I felt my body be pregnant in this dream...that may not mean much to some of you. But to me, it was huge. I have never dreamed that kind of dream before. Ever. Not even during the infertility. I usually have some sort of reason or "other-wordly" qualities to my dream where my head and heart are fully aware we are dreaming. But this was not like those times. I can't quite describe the feelings that I held as I felt being pregnant. I can't put it into a picture. I don't really want to actually. It's too personal, a little too raw. I will just tell you that it was like a door getting slammed in your face that you had totally forgotten about.

Here is what I want to write right now, what I feel like I "should" write: The dream was so weird! I knew this wasn't what God wanted for me. I am happy where I am and with everything. I don't even want that anymore! I totally didn't even care and I woke up laughing and wondering where the hell that dream came from.

Here is the reality: It freaking sucked. It was awful and lovely, and sad. I didn't want to wake up. I woke up feeling lonely. Like I got hit with a ton of bricks. I wanted it to be true. I still grieve. Yes...it was a big fat ugly reminder that I am going to have times where I still grieve. Times where I still miss that experience and get a little sad sometimes that I will never have that. I needed a little time to regroup and still now it makes me a little choked up to think about. I woke up in a funk and it's true, I did wonder where the hell that dream came from.

I don't think adoption is any less of an option. I am very very excited about a third adoption. I would be pretty freaked out if I found out I was pregnant, but it won't happen and that's okay. My body can not get pregnant. Please don't say "miracles happen". It won't, and that is okay. I am okay with that, more than that, I'm in love with how we have built our family and how we will be building our family again.

I just...

I just still have my moments where I grieve.

It hits you when you aren't looking, like grief does so well. Right when you think you are healed, it slams back home to you. It doesn't mean you are less of a person, or that you think any less of your kids that weren't brought to you in that manner. 

It means that you went through some trauma and it was very real, very raw, and it may still hurt at times.

Allow yourself to work through those feelings, let yourself be a little sad....allow your emotions to bend at their will. Don't force it. The next day you will feel better. You will once again be optimistic and hopeful. Grief won't be put on the back burner...if you try to shelve it, then it will grow.

But most of all, I'm trying not to beat myself up for it. I mean, does this mean that I am less of an adoptive parent? Am I unhealthy? Have I not worked through everything I needed to? I feel like I am being traitorous to my sons. Not true. My head knows that isn't true, it's totally separate. I wouldn't change a thing about my guys.

I know this.

But that horrendous bitch infertility still hurts. Sometimes a lot, sometimes very very little, sometimes not at all. It's normal for grief to come back. Why is it so darned unexpected then? I think I expect it to happen, but I forget about the pain. I forget about it. Maybe it's because of the upcoming adoption (no news from SW yet by the way). Maybe because it's so much easier to just "get pregnant". Or maybe, as grief, it just is. It's normal. I know this.

I know this, but still....still....it's still just a little sad for me at times. And this morning was one of those times.

Don't pity me, that isn't what this is about. Don't think you have to cheer me up, I'm not that sad. I'll be back to my regular crazy self tomorrow. It's just a little bit of honesty for tonight. A tiny blurb that may or may not help someone with the risk of throwing myself out there...maybe too much, maybe not.