I usually judge how well a Sunday goes for me based on the condition of my ironing basket. Silly, I know, but I can't tell you how good it feels to go to bed on a Sunday evening knowing there isn't a stitch of clothing in the house that needs to be ironed and that the Mister has a clean, pressed dress shirt to wear each day of the week. The ironing board is put away, and I don't have to live with its presence next to my bed, quietly nagging me about the fact that Sunday is long gone and the ironing is still not gone.
Yes, I probably need therapy.
I added the "sort of" to temper down the notion that this Sunday has been really good, as there are all sort of emotions brewing beneath the surface. This Wednesday, the 10th, is looming large before me, as it's the second attempt at the birth parent interview.
It's as if I can already feel the grief, anger, and fear growing in me from the last failed attempt, ready to surge forward. Silly to have those things already brewing over something that has not happened yet.
Something that may not even happen.
Why can't I feel happiness, or cheer, or victory getting ready to burst forth upon the news that it happened? Probably because I suppressed a good deal of my frustration the last go around. And probably because I am scared. Scared of all the scary things that could go wrong. Scared of how long it could be until they come home. Scared that some of my worst nightmare scenario are already kind of happening.
I nearly started crying today at Church when one of our Pastors asked me if our babies would be home soon. I was explaining our holdups to her, and she looked at me sternly in the eye. Pointing a finger at me, she said, "We are going to pray those boys home. And I'm going to tell Pastor H. and he is going to help pray your boys home. I'm getting on it right now," she said as she walked away.
For those of you who don't know our Pastor Sandy, let me just say that she is one tough cookie and when this woman prays, things happen. For those of you who do have the honor of knowing her, you know what an incredible blessing this is to us.
It always humbles me just how much others care about these two little boys they never met. I wish there was an adequate way to express my gratitude, but I haven't found it yet.
Well, I'm at this keyboard, a slobbering mess, and it's time for the littles to go to bed. I promised myself that my pain and grief over this adoption was not going to take away from my children here any longer. I'm going to pick myself up, use half a box of Kleenex and some chapstick to make myself more presentable, and go to for bedtime stories and prayers.
I wish there was a way to express my gratitude to all of you who hold me up. Thank you, thank you for listening.