seven on saturday

I mean, why settle for five on Friday when you could overachieve with seven on Saturday? Exactly.

1. Matt and I started doing Whole30 yesterday! If you have no idea what it is, then go visit their webpage, ha. We are trying to break our horrible addiction to eating fairly healthy most of the day and then eating 46 servings (each) of cookies or ice cream...every night. We've gotten terrible. So since we've been failing at moderation (and my clothes are failing to look good...), we figured we'd give this a try. Two days in and I'm feeling great! I mean, I'm feeling exactly the same as I always do, honestly, but at least I'm not suffering from debilitating cravings or sugar crashes...so I'm calling it a win.

Oh and look, my sweet potato loves me! So surely that's a sign that I'm doing something right...right?

2. Millie is sick again. I know- surprise, surprise!! It's a double ear infection and pink eye this time...so we'll give her an A for variety? Anyway, she was pretty pitiful in general today, and her face was constantly covered in dried goo (from her eyes and nose, and you're welcome for that mental image), but possibly the saddest part was the times when she would wake up from sleeping and literally (no, literally) not be able to open her eyes because those long, long eyelashes were so gooped up that her eyes were glued shut. It must have been so scary and disorienting to be awake and WANT to open your eyes but not be able to!! Anyway. Poor baby. She's on about a dozen(ish) new medicines now, so hopefully she feels better (and looks less crusty....hahaha) soon.

During her happier moments today, she played with her toys while Lola babysat and I drank cocktails by the pool. Just kidding, I didn't do that...but Lola totally does look like she's babysitting.

3. I must admit- I'm pretty proud of myself. I achieved my 10,000 steps per day goal 22 out of the 30 days in April!! I think that in some of my previous jobs/life stages that would have been a nearly laughable goal- I probably walked that much by noon or something. But since I currently have a basically sedentary job and lifestyle...I have to work really hard to get to 10k, and I'm proud that I did it almost every day last month!! So yay, pat on the back (or...feet?) for me.

4. Speaking of mobility...this one is contemplating it for herself.

 Well, she looks like she's contemplating it. But actually she just likes to sit in this position. She's tricky like that.

5. And yes, she sits on a beach towel on the floor in the kitchen. Let's just say that my floor-cleaning goals go unmet basically every single day. Blah. But I'm pretty good at staying on top of laundry, so...play to your strengths?? Something like that. 

6. After reading Unbroken for book club last month (and suddenly feeling like I'm SO EDUCATED about WWII), I'm on a WWII fiction kick. My favorite so far has been The Soldier's Wife, which I think would be a really great book for a book club. The discussion questions in the back gave me lots to think about (so basically, I conduct book clubs with myself...). It also alerted me to the fact that (in addition to my ignorance about the war in the Pacific) I know nothing about the Occupation, but it made for some fascinating (albeit fictional) reading. So if you have any other WWII fiction recommendations, I'm all ears (or eyes, as the case may be). I've heard that All The Light We Cannot See would fit the bill, so maybe a copy of that will become available at the library sometime in the next decade...but feel free to add to my list!

7. Apparently Millie's #1 Biggest Fan (besides me, of course. And Matt.) is her cousin Carley. My mom reports that to Carley, every single baby/baby-related-thing/small item in her world is "Mill-Mill's." If there are two things and one is bigger and one is smaller (like, I don't know, pieces of food. Shirts. Dogs.), the smaller one is automatically "Mill-Mill's _____." I think it is SO adorable. So today the girls did some FaceTiming, and although their faces don't look overly enthusiastic at this particular moment...it was a pretty big day for them both, I think.

I'm so thankful that we live so close to our siblings (well, relatively, I guess. I grew up a thousand miles away (Georgia to Texas, yo) from all of my relatives, so two hours is nothing) so that Millie will be able to grow up knowing and loving her cousins. And it's also pretty awesome that FaceTime exists for the weeks in between visits. 

And there we go. Seven random things to round out your Saturday. You will probably be disappointed but unsurprised to learn that Matt (who also read Unbroken and also now has a renewed interest in WWII) is rewatching Band of Brothers this weekend and that my excitement about WWII definitely does not stretch that far. I'm once again ignoring it (but enjoying the lovely score), even though Matt tried to convince me I'd like it this time...nope. Just can't do it. He did mention that there's a newer (but similar) series focusing on the Pacific theater of WWII, and maybe I would like that...and I'm intrigued...but I don't know. They're just so...war-ish. Or something. Bleak. (Oh, and then I like how one time he was like "but didn't you like the movie Pearl Harbor?" "well, sure." "well, that's about WWII." ummm...pretty sure I wasn't in it for the battle scenes.)

about a year ago

It was about a year ago when my coworker came into my office and closed the door.

Hey, um...so I don't know if this is uncomfortable for you or something you want to talk about, but I was wondering if you and Matt were still considering adoption?

I didn't quite know what to say. Our loss was still so raw in our hearts, but five months had passed. We mostly tried to ignore the pain and avoid the topic, but since our desire to be parents hadn't left...we'd briefly discussed our family-building options. I'm pretty sure my incredibly optimistic perspective on the idea of pursuing adoption again was something like "well, sure, but I'll never go through that [a post-placement failure] again." Which is convenient, since adoptive parents typically have tons of control in that department. At any rate, our perspective on adoption at the time was basically sure, if the absolutely right situation just slaps us in the face. 

So I said something along those lines to my friend. Sure, we were cautiously open to the idea. But God was going to have to FLING OPEN some doors and forcibly throw us onto the path, because I was not just itching to set myself up for a lot of heartbreak again anytime soon.

My coworker got excited then. Oh good!, she said. I was hoping you were still interested. And she proceeded to tell me about some friends of hers who had a niece who was looking to make an adoption plan for her unborn baby. The family members were all working together to network to find prospective adoptive parents, and my friend felt like we would be the perfect family. Would we like her to mention us to her friend?

Well...sure. What harm could it do? But there was no way we were getting our hopes up. 

And I didn't. Unlike the previous 40 times we'd been at this point in the process, being presented to an expectant mother, this time I had no hope. I didn't daydream about what might happen, I didn't calculate the due date, I didn't imagine what if scenarios. I basically didn't think about it, except to occasionally feel sick to my stomach and wonder why on earth I would even consider opening myself up to such pain again.

And then a few days later, my friend came by again. Hey, I talked to my friend about yall. They want to meet you! Can I give them your contact information?

Oh! Oh. Oh. Umm...meet us. Okay, sure.

Because when they meet us, they will know- I am too broken, too fragile, too much of a mess. I want to be a mommy too badly and I'm scared to death and I'm alternately angry with and desperate for God...I'm a mess. But sure, if they want to meet, let's meet.

Although her extended family lived nearby, the expectant mother, J, lived in a different part of the state. She would be coming to Athens that weekend, though- could we meet her?

Well, that weekend happened to be Easter. We had plans to travel out of town, and I didn't want to miss Easter with my family. I don't know if I was naive or stupid, but I just figured that if it was meant to be, then our being out of town that weekend just wasn't going to be a deal breaker. And if it was, then great. It wasn't meant to be. Save me a whole lotta heartbreak.

That's no problem, the family said. Enjoy your Easter. But we really want to meet you- what about next weekend?

Oh, wow. Cool. Not a deal breaker! Butttt...the next weekend I had plans to travel, too. It was my friend's wedding, and I was a bridesmaid. We had hotel reservations, a dress, I was doing makeup for the wedding party...definitely couldn't skip out. So at the risk of sounding like the lamest, least interested potential adoptive parent ever, I again declined. Hey- if it's meant to be, it's meant to be, right? If God's great big plan for my life is that THIS is the situation that will lead to our forever family...then God also probably knew about my friend's wedding, and how it'd be the same weekend, and there must be some sort of contingency plan to work around it.

And there was. Because it just so happened that there was an event taking place in Athens the following weekend that J would be attending. Maybe we would like to meet up on Saturday?

Well, as it turned out, our calendar was just wide open that third weekend. Not a thing to do. And so we said yes. Yes, we would love to meet with you. Thank you for being so understanding- we aren't normally so busy on weekends! But yes, just tell us when and where, and we would love to meet you.

And I still had almost no hope. Although what I knew of the situation sounded promising, although our every interaction with J and her family thus far had been unbelievably encouraging...I just couldn't believe that anything good could come. Because I was a mess still. I didn't have it all together, and my heart still hurt from November, and I didn't think God really planned to do much good in my life. I couldn't imagine redemption from my heartache. Maybe we looked good on paper. Maybe people liked us and would say nice things about us and say oh, they'll be the BEST parents! when talking to their friends...but I just couldn't imagine that anything good could actually happen when we met on Saturday. I guess I just thought there was something fundamentally flawed about me. Why else would I be closing in on six years of fruitlessly pursuing parenthood?

But in the midst of my severe lack of hope and faith, we said yes. Because at that point, after three weeks of being pursued, it kinda felt like the doors-flinging-open-God-kicking-you-onto-a-path that I'd sarcastically imagined, so how could I not take the step? 

And at some point before Saturday, we learned that the baby was a girl. And for some reason, a burst of hope shot into my heart, because I really, really wanted a daughter. I wanted a son, too, but for reasons I don't understand...my heart came alive again when I learned that this would be a girl. A girl. 

It was about a year ago that I felt hope start creeping back into my heart. As we waited for Saturday, we didn't tell anyone. We barely even discussed it ourselves. Too scary. Too hard. What will be will be...and maybe it'll be over quickly, like ripping a band-aid off, and there won't be much pain. Or maybe not. Maybe this is it, maybe this is our time. Maybe this will be the family we will be in relationship with for the rest of our lives. Maybe we will be meeting our daughter's mother, and maybe she will like us and see our mess and fear and excitement and doubt and love and think that maybe it's just messy enough for her. 

As Saturday approached, I tried my hardest to keep hope at bay, to squelch it and stuff it down into the depths of my heart. I tried to remember the pain, the heartache...to not get hasty, to stay detached. But it just didn't work this time. From some dormant place, an expectant peace bubbled up, and my what will be will be mantra started feeling a lot less resigned and a lot more excited. Because for whatever reason, J wanted to meet us. On Saturday. And maybe- just maybe- this would be the beginning of our redemption story.

so many options...

Millie is still a baby right now...obviously the cutest, sweetest, funniest baby ever, but still a baby. With each week that passes, though, I catch more glimpses of what she might be like as she grows out of her baby-ness. Her personality, her tendencies, her preferences...it's just so much fun watching those things develop. I love imagining what she might be like next month and next year and in five years. I can't wait to see how she unfolds.

One thing that I have trouble imagining, though, is what she'll look like. Not that it matters. It's just I can only imagine her looking one way: exactly how she does now. Which is perfect, of course. But for whatever reason, I just can't imagine what she'll look like as a toddler. And I think that the crux of the issue is that she doesn't have (much) hair. I can't draw a picture of Older Millie in my head because I don't know what she will look like with hair.

But who needs hair when you're this cute?

Lucky for me, there is the internet. And free time. And possibly mis-using a makeover webpage. But who cares, because the end result was lots of laughs in my house...and perhaps a slightly better idea of what lies ahead for Millie...or something.

Like, you know...maybe she'll be blonde!

Such luscious locks...this would be convenient because then we could easily discern whose long hair was responsible for clogging the drain/covering the floor/sticking to the shower wall. No confusion about blame!

But maybe she'd rather grow up to look just like her mom?

Haha, I know, I know. My hair never actually looks that good. If Millie got hers to look like that, I'd really have to step up my game. So maybe I'll encourage her to go another direction...

Aack...well, maybe not this direction, exactly. That looks painful and very non-cuddly. I want Future Millie to cuddle with me still, so I might discourage this look. Also, all those various colors would probably cost a fortune to maintain. Future Millie's gonna have to get a job if she expects a high-maintenance look like this.

Maybe Millie will truly follow in my footsteps and just phone it in with a bun most days. Thatta girl.

In conclusion...this is possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, but I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe, so it really seems worth it. 

And P.S.- Millie, just stay a bald baby as long as you can.

nearly wordless wednesday

If there is anything cuter than a bloomer-clad baby booty, I don't know what it is. 

Except for maybe a baby in yellow overalls. 

And that's pretty much all there is to say about that.