Live a little

I am learning that the death of a loved one makes you contemplate your own time on this planet. People often use the cliche "life is short". Boy does that ever feel true to me now.

My father didn't have an easy life, partly because of the "hand" that was dealt to him, and partly because of choices he made. The lesson I have learned from that is this--I have control over very little in this life. What I do have control over, I want to GRAB hold of with the strength of a titan.

From the time I was five and in Kindergarten to the time I was 28 I was in school. Kindergarten straight to Ph.D. Don't get me wrong, I loved school, but sometimes I wonder what I missed out on in those formidable 20 something years.

Phillip and I have been through a lot in the 13 years we have been together (almost 9 years married)....job loss twice, advanced degrees, serious illness and subsequent difficulty having a family, the quest toward adoption, and the tragic death of a parent. Boy, you really don't realize what you're saying when you say "for better or worse" on that alter, right?!

What I feel now is this. An urgency to LIVE my life. To do the things I've wanted to do, but have been afraid to do or put off. To travel. To speak the truth. To make big decisions. To care more about my family and myself than my job. If you know me-you know how huge this is. To do things that feel right, rather than to weigh everything analytically. If you know me, you know I don't do spontaneity. Ever.

I have spent most of my life worrying...as far back as I can remember...sleepless nights...obsessive thoughts about always doing the "right thing" or not dropping the ball in any way. In the last 10 years, I spent a significant amount of my life worrying about my dad's health. That's gone....so there is a bizarre absence of feelings there.

Well, I think I have to reinvent myself. Mind you, I'm not making any rash decisions, but I know I want to LIVE more than I have before now. To make decisions that feel right. To choose what's right for me and my family above other things that matter so much less. To remember that my career is a marathon, not a sprint. To remember to forgive and forget as much as is humanly possible.

We're bringing a life into the world. Soon. I owe it to my son or daughter to be certain that I'm living my life in the moment...not belaboring the past or hoping for the future.

There's no denying my life has changed dramatically, and will continue to dramatically change as we become parents. I'm not afraid. I'm brave. Bring on the future. Bring on my new normal. 

A moment we've been waiting for

This week we signed, notarized, and mailed the adoption activation agreement to our adoption agency, American Adoptions. What does that mean, you wonder? It means that, as soon as that paperwork is processed, we are officially active with our agency. More "adoption speak", right? "Active" means that birth parents can officially view our print and video profile and choose us as the adoptive parents. Of course it will take a few days for the FedEx package to get there, and a few more days for them to process everything, but a day we have been waiting for, for almost a full year, is finally here!

So the question is...how do we feel?

Excited. Terrified. Grateful. And most of all? Patient. The events of the last few years have taught us patience. We spent 2010-2012 (early) hoping for pregnancy, and having several disappointments. In March of 2012, we made the decision to adopt. We had a financial plan, a home study, an agency. But, our financial plan didn't work out because life throws blows you can't anticipate. So we chose fundraising. And as uncomfortable as it was, we were blessed with over $12,000 from amazing family, friends, and supporters (some where were literal strangers!). It's hard to believe that so many people believe we should become parents, and we literally couldn't have done it without all of you. So, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts for filling up a bottle, making a donation, or just sending us prayers and encouragement. We were blown away by your kindness. 

In November, we were hoping that by maybe March or April, we would be active...with every scrimp, saving, and extra work we could manage.

And then, we were hit with the biggest blow of our lives-my father's death. Neither of us were thinking about adoption in the last month and a half. We were grieving. We still are, truthfully. I dare say that there is ever anything "good" that comes from a death, but in this case, my father's death allowed us to move forward with growing our family more quickly than we could have.

Don't misunderstand, I would give anything to have my father back. I can't have that. What I can do, is celebrate life...the life of my father...and through him...the life of my child to be.

2012 ended with the end of a life. We're hoping and praying that 2013 will be about the beginning of a life, the beginning of a family. 

So now? We wait. It will likely be many months, but the reality is we really don't know, we aren't in control, and I'm okay with that. SO excited to finally be on this phase of the journey...because THIS phase leads to family.

Memory Quilts

I wanted to find a really special way to honor my dad this Christmas. We got most of his clothing, so I got the idea of having memory quilts made for myself and my sister. Out of luck, I found the most wonderful quilter, Judy at "A Better Quilt" online. It was so clear from our conversations on the phone that making these quilts is much more than a job to her, probably more like a calling.

My dad was a Premier Partner and Broker/Dealer with Lincoln Financial for over 20 years. He was extremely good at his job, and a large part of his identity was his profession. Though he was quite the saver, he did spend money on clothing. In his business, it was critical to be dressed to impress. He probably had 150 or more custom made suits, ties, shirts, etc. Truly, I am NOT exaggerating. These aren't the kinds of things you donate to Goodwill-they wouldn't fit many people....he was short and stout (genetics..ugh)...and besides they had sentimental meaning to me. I was glad to have them.

The flip side of dad was that he only had one other mode of dress-sweatpants, sweatshirts, crazy t-shirts, and so on. I sent one box of the custom made clothing and ties for one quilt (my sister's), and one box of the "down-time" clothes for myself, knowing that in the future there were so many other suits for me to make a second quilt for myself.

The quilter, Judy, called me one day while she was working on the quilts just to make sure that she had read my instructions correctly. She asked me what my father did for a living...and then told me how confused she was because one box was high end custom clothing and the other box included things like boxer shorts from the Piggly Wiggly, and Clockwork Orange t-shirts (my dad loved was obsessed with Alfred Hitchcock). I laughed, because that dichotomy was my father.


I wanted to have one quilt made for myself and one for my sister. Judy was amazing and was able to have them ready for me to give to Ruth for Christmas.

Both quilts were lap quilts, but mine was made of his "home attire" and Ruth's was made of his custom work attire.

The box arrived on Christmas Eve. When I unfolded the first quilt, tears began to stream down my face, which is the exact same reaction my sister had when opening hers.

We are trying as best we can to honor his memory in as many ways as we can think of. His not having a funeral has been really hard for me. I know that the funeral wouldn't bring full healing or closure, but it would have been nice to have a place and time to gather in his name to remember him.

Regardless, snuggling under the quilt makes me feel close to him, and I need that desperately right now.

Family and the Fog

It's been a little over a month since I lost my father. Never having lost someone so close to me, there has been no way for me to anticipate or navigate how I will feel on a day to day basis. We've all heard the expression "one day at a time", but in the beginning, it was really more like one minute at a time. There have been very few days I have had enough energy or motivation to leave my house.

The only thing that has kept me remotely sane through this whole ordeal is my family. In particular my husband, who has allowed me to feel every emotion I needed to,  react any way I felt like reacting, lay in bed when I needed to, and held me when I cry uncontrollably. He knows he can't console me, and the best part is--he doesn't try. He doesn't try to make it "better". He just let's it be what it is, and that's exactly what I need right now.

When we attend weddings I often say that you have no idea what you are saying on that alter. You have no idea what "for better or worse" really means. It's probably best that you don't. Honestly, no one could really be prepared for what you must weather together in a marriage.

Through losing my father, my relationship with my husband has been strengthened. He held me as I said my last words to my father alone in that hospital room. He said his last words to my dad too...promising to take care of me.

I would be remiss if I didn't stay the same about my mother, my sisters, my beautiful in-laws and our wonderful extended families. I could describe the ways in which they helped bear the burden of this loss, but it's almost too painful to recount...feeding us, praying with us, crying with us, holding us. If it weren't for them, I don't know how I would be "coping" as well as I am (which is not to say I'm just dandy....copying and "dandy" are quite different).

 Phillip's parents...beautiful souls.

I guess the point of this is that sometimes you don't know how strong your family is until you weather a crisis together. Some families crumble in crisis. I have experienced this too, in the past, but not this time. This time, through the grief "fog", I'm still able to see a bright light shining ahead, guiding me in. That light is my family. I'm grateful, humbled, loved, and from this have learned not to take a single opportunity to spend time together for granted.