Tomorrow we will celebrate 13 years of marriage.

Yesterday we celebrated 4 weeks of life of this little bundle of light and joy.

This year for our anniversary, there will be no lost weekends in Vegas, no European getaways, no fancy dinners out, and no other planned distractions from our ever long six year quest to become parents.

There will only be a lot of attention to this little being — which is just what we’ve wanted for a very long time.

Lucky 13, eh?

Wow. Thank you all for your extremely kind and generous thoughts, words and good wishes. I seriously can’t thank you enough for every single comment and email over the past few weeks. It took me a while to get through them…

The past three weeks have been quite a whirlwind. I’ve been wanting to update to let you know that all is well and we’ve been adjusting to each other and to our new (lack of) sleep pattern.

I really don’t know where to begin with just a few minutes to spare. I thought I was an efficient multitasker, but it turns out I’m not. I’ve barely had time to shower, or water the plants, or keep us all fed.

Plus I know I’ve been a very bad blogger. Aside from not updating, I’ve had no time to keep up with you. I’m barely on top of my email. Please know I still think of you and wish you well too. I’m looking forward to getting back online soon, maybe.

Also I’m struggling with how much or how little to say here about our little baby girl and her amazing story. Not sure I should share her name or too many details or pictures, or whether I should protect some posts with a password, or what. For now I will say this.

Baby J is doing great, finally regained her birth weight and then some. She is beautiful and appears to be quite healthy. Breastfeeding is not going so well, but she is getting some milk and plenty of good formula.

K is doing well too. She was inspired by such a beautiful and powerful birth. I’ll have to share that story another time though. K has been healing amazingly well and is eager to embrace her new life and body without this baby inside. She says she is happy and at peace. She signed her papers last week, but they are on hold until we deal with the bio-father’s termination of parental rights, which is moving forward.

What else? Do I feel like a mother yet? Hard to say, even though I tell her “mama’s here” when she cries. I do feel like this little girl’s mama, but I don’t identify as a mother. Wonder if I ever will.

Maybe the most important thing is this: I could not love this little girl any more if she came out of my own body. That is the honest truth.

Plenty of other thoughts I’d like to share, but there’s not enough time…

The first time I felt her soft breath rise and fall on my chest, I cried tears of joy. The sweet sound of her cooing and squeaking makes me smile. She has big rosy cheeks and her whole face turns red when she gets upset. Music seems to calm and soothe her. Holding this tiny bundle of joy makes my heart soar. She might just be the most kissable baby ever.

Showing her off to family and friends has been wonderful. Suddenly it seems we are proud parents. More than anything, I can’t tell you how happy M and I are to (finally) be a dynamic trio.

It is wonderful, and yes, it is hard too. But I won’t complain.

I’m trying to cherish every precious minute because I know she will grow so fast. She already has.

Hard to believe baby J is already three weeks old.

Hard to believe we first met K just six months ago yesterday.

How much time can change in half a year.

I am so grateful to have found our path to this child, our child.

Happy Summer Solstice everyone.

And Happy Father’s Day to every prospective papa out there. It’s a happy day here for M…

An absolutely perfectly beautiful baby girl arrived as the sun rose yesterday morning, surrounded by loved ones and just in time for her due date…

We are nearly speechless at what a profoundly moving experience this has been. Let me just say that K is a warrior goddess.

I am awed and humbled by how precious this tiny being is. We are still contemplating how much our lives have changed overnight….

Story still to come, when there is time (will there ever be time again?)…

Deepest thanks to you all for your incredible support throughout this continuing journey. Stay tuned…

That’s right. A few momentous occasions this week…

K finally reached her 40th week of pregnancy! 39w1d today, and her actual due date is Sunday. To say she is beyond ready would be an understatement.

We are also as ready as we’re ever going to be. Our bags are packed and we are on standby. Whenever we see K, we talk to Baby, telling Baby how excited we are to meet him/her. K’s joke is that there is much more room on the outside, so come on out!

We think (and hope for K’s sake) it could be soon. Really hoping K doesn’t go late. It’s not just that we want to meet this baby, it’s that K is done being pregnant, and we want the best chance for a healthy home birth that she can possibly have. Bigger later babies could complicate things…

And so we wait…

And yes, I sort of celebrated a big scary day last week. I had not been looking forward to it at all. But M has a way of making it all worthwhile.

Last year, when I was in a very tough place after our last treatment failed and before we committed to adoption, I did not want to celebrate at all. I was depressed, longing and anxious. But M took me on a fabulous weekend away to Big Sur and we had a fantastic time.

This year, for my big four-oh, we had planned a trip we’ve been wanting to take for years — to the San Juan Islands off the coast of Seattle. But as things progressed with K, we knew we couldn’t be so far from home and out of reach when she would be 38+ weeks pregnant. So we canceled our trip and decided to plan something local.

After I vented about not being able to go away and not even wanting to celebrate, in a wonderfully strange coincidence, Mel suggested that we take a trip to a small town about an hour away. She had never been there but had read about it in a magazine. She emailed me the name, and I laughed. Of all the places, it was K’s home town. Freaky!

Once I came to terms with staying close to home — and began to revel in the anticipation of becoming a mother — we took a few days off work and played hookey. We spent a fun day in San Francisco, exploring and eating incredible food at little spots I’ve been wanting to try for a long time.

We had a wonderful lunch with dessert (molten lava cake with fresh homemade strawberry ice cream — wish there was an internet sound for this one!)…

We checked out one of my favorite museums…

And of course we squeezed in a lovely dinner, this one at an excellent Morrocan restaurant, with another amazing dessert…

The next day we woke up and drove north to wine country, where my amazing M treated me to another tasty lunch (including a goat cheese sampler — yum!), an awesome relaxing spa day (first the steam room, then an herbal body scrub and hot mud wrap from heaven, followed by mineral pools), and a perfect candlelight dinner under the stars (with yet more dessert — fresh ginger cookies with lemon verbena ice cream sandwich, and chocolate pot de creme with strawberries — yes, it’s strawberry season here!), and a nightcap at a cozy bar (I drank a late harvest red, for the curious).

We stayed at a romantic inn for the night, soaked in a hot tub, and ate breakfast at a local bakery. It was lovely. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera that day, so you will just have to use your imagination.

I told you he was wonderful, didn’t I? For this, I am so grateful. He is the greatest gift ever.

Then, since we were already off, we met with K to spend some time before heading home and back to work…

So turning 40 wasn’t all bad, even though I can’t believe I am so fucking old.

And now, I just hope we can stave off the Memorial Day curse a little while longer…

Meanwhile, it has been two years since we lost our best friend, and we still miss her terribly. Thinking of you, sweet girl.

Two recent experiences have left me wondering if that feeling will ever disappear. The inevitable dread that lingers over those announcements. The inescapable jealousy that arises when I see how easy it is for others…

The first was an announcement I’d been anticipating for a while, though that never makes it any easier. When they announced they were expecting their first child, an “oops” baby, it was like a punch in the gut. Thankfully, they told me in private before declaring it in front of 100 close friends and family at their wedding. As I got my period.

Their little girl is a real love. Though I nearly had a breakdown at her baby blessing ceremony over a year ago. So yeah, her parents, my cousins, are expecting again. This child will be the closest cousin in age to our child. Part of me is so excited about that. Yet the other side, the forever infertile, simply has a hard time accepting how simple it seems to merely want a child and be able to create one, just like that.

Or two. Or four.

The other morning while working at home I answered the phone to a surprising voice on the other end. A childhood friend has somehow tracked down my home number. I should point out there is a reason I’m not on ‘farcebook’ (thanks shinejil).’ I don’t want to be. Yet I was intrigued by the call. I hadn’t spoken to this friend since around her wedding 12 years ago. Aside from our past, we had nothing in common and I was resigned to let the friendship fade…

Yet here she was, on the phone. Of course I asked how she’s been. I knew she had married a very successful doctor and had retired from her own career to have children.

“I have FOUR babies!” she screamed into the phone. Incredulous, I ask “Four? Wow…” That was even more than I had imagined. She went on to tell me how “they all have the same face” and how she has been “so busy!” with them. But that’s not all.

Turns out she was happy with three. She had the “right” house, the “right” car, everything was “perfect.” So she did what any fully satisfied fertile might do. She had her tubes tied. And then she got pregnant AGAIN. Had her fourth baby just a month before our 20 year high school reunion that I wouldn’t have gone to if you paid me. “I was so chubby!” she said. “You should have seen me!”

Unfuckingbelievable. Her fucking tubes were tied! Gulp.

Breathing…

And then the inevitable. “So tell me about YOU! Tell me everything!”

Crap.

I put a great spin on my life, the short version. In many ways, I do have a wonderful life. I have an awesome loving husband, a great rewarding career, and possibly a brand new baby on the way.

I told her that, so far, I had not been so blessed in the baby department.

I told her, very briefly, how we had tried unsuccessfully for years to build our family, and how thrilled we are to adopt this new baby, due to be born any day now.

“Oh, how exciting!” she screamed. “So is it your first?!”

Hmmm…

“No… we lost our first,” I explained. “That was a few years ago.”

I didn’t let it linger. I added how overjoyed we are to finally become parents after so long.

Then we got into a discussion about being older moms. She joked that she would be in a walker at 43 bringing her youngest to kindergarten. Considering we’re the same age and her kids range from 2 to 9, I didn’t really find it amusing, but I must have somehow forced a chuckle.

Then, thankfully, I was relieved when we exchanged emails and said our goodbyes. And I felt a little sick to my stomach.

As Lindsay pointed out, in a very short while, none of this should bother me much. And it’s true.

But I also can’t help feel like it’s enough already. I’m tired of feeling that pit in my stomach.

I have so much excitement and anticipation about this baby soon to be born, knowing that in all likelihood we are (finally) on the brink of parenthood. So much joy and happiness. I don’t take for granted one bit of all the goodness we’ve been experiencing with K’s pregnancy and our growing family. Not for one minute.

And yet.

Even when I finally do become a mother, that won’t wipe away the wounds of infertility. All the years of pain and anguish, my body’s betrayal, the loss of my son.

I believe in my heart that motherhood will bring great joy. I know beyond any doubt that the child who enters our lives will be loved with my whole heart. No reservations, no regrets. None.

But infertility has taken a great toll. And sometimes it feels like I’m still paying…

Just didn’t want to leave you all hanging with that last post…

Birth of Baby is not yet imminent, i.e., within hours. It still could be a couple of weeks, but as I said it could also be just a few days… K is 38 weeks on Sunday, and her body seems to be getting ready.

We are in touch with K nearly every day and we visit with each other about twice a week. Instead of pushing herself on several mile hikes every other day, she is listening to her body’s need to conserve energy for labor. She is finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

I have to say, we are all getting very excited. It is starting to feel very real, and close…

The other day, K had her visit with the social worker in which she was advised about the process for relinquishing her parental rights. In California, nothing is signed until after the baby is born, and in our case, until K is well enough to get around. We made plans for after K’s meeting so we could give her a hug, go for a walk and feed her. I said I imagined that must have been tough, but she said no, not really, that she was ready. She said she gives up her rights and we get ours — that it all works out in the end.

We talked a lot about how this match has far exceeded any of our wildest expectations and hopes — how lucky we are to have found each other, what gratitude we share. It is such a beautiful thing, I can’t even describe it. Some of you know what I’m talking about…

And so for now, we wait. We sleep in while we can, stay up late when we want, go to the movies, take day trips and be spontaneous.

And we wait for The Call. What else can we do?

Things are moving along on the baby front. Or more accurately, Baby is descending and engaged in K’s pelvis and slowly but (hopefully) surely headed towards the exit…

37w3d and K’s cervix is starting to dilate and is 50% effaced, meaning it is ripening and thinning and getting to the point where delivery would (eventually) be possible. Nothing is imminent, and we are not rushing anywhere yet. It could still be a few weeks until K goes into active labor. But it also could be a matter of days…

Holy crap! Looks like someone has to get her shit together and prepare for this little one’s arrival. Not K — she is ready — me!

Carseat isn’t installed, milk hasn’t yet come in, formula hasn’t arrived, email list hasn’t been created, neighbors haven’t been warned, and work situation and health insurance aren’t yet worked out…

Oh, but we are still so very ready for this baby to come…

It could still be a while, but we are getting closer. Finally.

Well, we spent the weekend in the tiny room attached to our bedroom, the soon-to-be nursery.

Long time readers may remember I had no intention of making room for a nursery until a baby was in sight. Despite being urged by our adoption counselor, and urged by others not to, the most I could do was begin collecting baby books on a small but growing shelf. This was the one pleasure I allowed myself so early — collecting children’s books.

For a long time, I wavered between embracing the uncertainty and accepting the fear before I could completely let go and flow with this process. Time was relative and distorted, and it seemed we had so very long to wait before K’s due date…

Yet now, with K at 37 weeks and preparing for labor, we are finally preparing a nursery! And the best part is K joined us this weekend to help create this beautiful space for Baby.

M and I really wanted to create something symbolic of our journey and of this child. Because this baby’s story is so intertwined with nature, as is our connection to K, it seemed well, only natural to incorporate a theme around a “tree of life.” If we had been even more ambitious, we might have kept going. But we are not professionals, and this was a labor of love. Behold…

the finished wall…

K created the sun…

M created the “tree of life” (with lots of input, maybe too much?)…

I painted the wildflowers and butterflies…

it was a true collaborative creative effort…

with instant memories for which I am so grateful,

and a wonderful feeling every time we walk in the room...

This day means so much to so many, for better or worse. On one level I know it’s just a Hallmark holiday — a reminder to call and send a card to your dear old mother, and to be cherished by children and maybe a partner of your own while treated to brunch and flowers.

But not everyone still has a mom around to call or send flowers. And of course not every woman has children to remind her what a wonderful appreciated mother she is. For many, this day (and the anticipation leading up to it) are merely a painful reminder of what is missing from our lives, what we’ve lost, what we long for…

I’ve lived through enough Father’s Days without my dad (23 years) to know how empty these manufactured holidays can feel. And I’ve tried to have my own children without success for long enough (6 years) to know how painful this day can be.

While everyone is thinking about celebrating their mothers and children, today I am thinking about…

…all the women who have longed to become mothers, yet motherhood has eluded us.

…all the motherless children and others whose moms are no longer with us.

…all the mothers whose much wanted babies and children are no longer with us.

…all the mothers who gave birth to babies yet could not care for them.

…all the children who long to know know their biological parents but do not.

I am also thinking of my own journey — how long it has taken, how far we have come, how close we are…

Today it feels as if I am finally on the brink of motherhood. I have never said that before.

Yet today I am also thinking of all I have lost, including my beloved baby boy — the son who would call me mama, the toddler who would be nearly three.

Today I am thinking about my own mother and how she is pondering her own mortality. After recently being diagnosed with a rare liver tumor at age 70, she is wondering how much time and quality of life she has left and whether she will be able to know her grandchild. I am also thinking of my nana and how my mom must be missing her today too.

My mom has always written me cards, especially when she’s been unable to express her feelings. This time her words brought me to tears. After telling me how proud she is of what I stand for and all I have accomplished, she wrote: “I may not be here to see it all — but I will always be with you, with all my love.” Even now, the tears are still falling…

Still, the circle of life continues.

Yesterday K gave me the most beautiful card. On the front it says “mom” and she wrote “** to be! (and soon!)” Inside she wrote about how joyful she is to see my love for this baby. She wrote that she couldn’t have imagined a better mama for Baby, and how we three will make such a beautiful family. Of course that one made me cry too…

As wonderful as that is, though, my heart aches for K too. We sent her mom and grandma cards, and we gave K a potted lavender plant in full bloom and a card telling her (among other things) what an incredible person she is and our hopes for her, and how she has given Baby the best start in life with all her love and care. We told her she will always be family.

So on this day, I am a swirl of emotions. There is no brunch, there are no flowers. But there are lots of big thoughts and heavy feelings. And there are vegetables and herbs being planted in the garden, and butterflies being painted on little walls…