tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56702915151532326202024-03-04T23:51:19.356-05:00My Bell Jar"The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air...I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am." ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar,jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.comBlogger709125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-65418975371307222642019-10-26T14:03:00.002-04:002019-10-26T14:03:50.298-04:00What feels like 1,000 Years Later...Two years, or 1,000, either way it’s been a long time. Judah, that sweet baby’s face you see down below was born and then he grew. He’s almost four now. And we’ve added another baby, sometimes two depending on the day, in the meantime. Life is flying at warp speed yet the days often feel like they actually do encompass 1,000 years. Either way i got an email that said your blog is celebrating 10 years today so I had to login to see if that was right. Nope. It’s actually been almost 13. I’d love to get back to this space but really, who even reads blogs anymore? I sure don’t. jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-7594095940222187992016-01-27T09:26:00.001-05:002016-01-27T09:27:14.240-05:00another year, another little human!<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznvSOu-5nXDuF2r2PPPpCHikZmowbOoIuYBCJJEPHC13MgMfwKMxfDSNvAB56y7fv3udjgTF_0dujohYtv_mx-ulnGSSqcw98eR-kFJgMvhtR-L_ghWcPgd2wugY7G6Nf7q-Q4rPcSYs/s640/blogger-image--1671487638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznvSOu-5nXDuF2r2PPPpCHikZmowbOoIuYBCJJEPHC13MgMfwKMxfDSNvAB56y7fv3udjgTF_0dujohYtv_mx-ulnGSSqcw98eR-kFJgMvhtR-L_ghWcPgd2wugY7G6Nf7q-Q4rPcSYs/s640/blogger-image--1671487638.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">S<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">o, Curtis told me it's been a year since I last blogged. Geez. I had such high hopes for myself. Ha! But in typical fashion life happened and other things took priority, namely, growing a human pretty much all of last year, and gosh, it wasn't exactly a cake walk and on top of two (or three, depending on who's counting!) needy people - it was a year of exhaustion. But now, a year later I have the pleasure of holding the fruits of my labor -- literally! Judah Lee is here and he's the most perfect addition to our family. So hello 2016 & hello to another year of beautiful exhaustion!!! See you next January...haha...but seriously...!!! ;)</span></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-45702718447402102292015-01-26T13:08:00.002-05:002015-01-26T13:08:13.598-05:00ooooh, two posts in one week, it's your lucky day! (and by your, i mean, Curtis')<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Soooo, the main reason I'm trying to get back into the swing of blogging is because my husband misses it. </div>
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He says because I'm an internal processor, when I write on here he gets a glimpse of the side of me I can't really reflect through just talking. Not even to him. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I guess that might be true. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It's just how I was wired. I don't talk to process information. I write. And lately I haven't made the time to just simply think and write to process my life. I have just been living. No longer simply in survival </span>mode, but just plain old living every day life mode. </div>
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But even with our head above the water, the last year or so has been somewhat of a blur. </div>
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Days often go at the speed of mud while months whiz by in a blink. It's funny how having kids (or is it just growing older?) does that to a person. </div>
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I'm not big into resolutions.</div>
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My thought is, if you want to change something, start something, end something, learn something, then just do it. It doesn't have to be the first of the year or even the first of the week to just start whatever it is you've been meaning to start. </div>
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But there is something about a fresh new year, a new calendar, like a fresh journal that gets my mind going a million miles an hour. It gets the to do lists going, gets the gears in my mind winding. </div>
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Really, I'm just trying to be more cognizant of using my time <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">wisely. Mostly because I know that soon nap time won't include all the little people of the house between 1:30 and 4:30 where every little human is sleeping. Pretty soon Micah will grow out of naps, and I may not have that chunk of uninterrupted alone time I do now. I mean, i'm intending on instituting some quiet time into our afternoon routine, but i'm sure it won't be as long as they nap now. So I want to use this time i have now well. And with that, for me at least, comes using my creativity and all that encompasses wherever and whenever possible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In the ways I keep my hands busy while watching tv, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">in how I study the bible, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">in activities I do with my kids, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">in the meals I prepare. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Creativity is not only given to us by God, but creativity has a heck of a way of making the daily grind just a wee bit more fun and a little less, well, grind-y. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So, hopefully, unless I fall off the blogging wagon again, I'll be back to share a little peak into what I've been up to and how we've all been keeping busy lately.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">There's a lot of growing happening in our home right now. Not only in kids' heights and ages, but in the skills they're learning, in the words they're using (for better or worse) and in so many other areas of our life, where we're all learning and growing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So hopefully it won't be another six months before I come back to this little virtual space, because I really do like it here. </span></div>
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-11229042645728667712014-09-23T20:18:00.000-04:002015-01-25T16:25:51.951-05:00i guess you could call this my quarterly recap<div style="text-align: left;">
i just randomly opened up my abandoned blogger account and saw this post, written gosh, in august probably, sitting in my drafts folder, wildly outdated but oh well. i haven't posted in some time so i figured i'd start back up with this - so pretend fall is just beginning and this is my catch up from the summer....<br />
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life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.</div>
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-f. scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby</div>
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oh the start of fall - how i love thee.</div>
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i'm sure i've sang falls sonnets many times on this old blog, so instead of repeating myself, i'll tell you how much i loved this summer. </div>
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the last i wrote here the summer had just begun. and yesterday officially marked the end.</div>
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every last day of summer i find myself singing that little dashboard confessional tune, </div>
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"so long sweet summer,</div>
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i stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays"</div>
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this was one of our most fun summers by far - definitely the best we've had as a family of four.</div>
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with too many pool trips to count, we got tan lines, (yes even nyla) and freckles (everyone but nyla did) and ate enough ice cream to last us until next summer.</div>
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the boys did a backyard "man only" camp out </div>
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and we took a family vacation to Seabrook Island near Charleston, SC, </div>
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we visited Chicago through Labor Day and drank enough iced coffee to last me through the cold months to come, when only the hottest coffee will suffice. </div>
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we watched fireworks and hosted bbq's and went to the zoo (a lot) and made smores and took a family bike ride and watched a movie in a tent in the back yard, we went to the beach and strolled through the farmer's market and went swimming after dinner until our fingers were like raisins just in time to go to sleep. </div>
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Our kids are at that perfect in between stage where even our littlest is less of a baby and more of a kid, at almost two years old - they're both old enough to skip the occasional nap or push bedtime back an hour or two when there's more fun to be had. and although we do all function better, and are all around much happier when we stick to a schedule, there are times, when long days when the summer sun sets well into the evening call for bedtime walks for frozen yogurt or an extra book or four on the sunporch is more important than some extra zzz's. </div>
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nyla is getting so big and every day she is learning new words and phrases to help her keep up with her brother who never leaves space for any quiet (just like another man in the house i know - and love!) more and more her gibberish is becoming intelligible thoughts and it is so cool to get a peak into her mischievous, hilarious, rambunctious mind. one day a few weeks ago she walked up to me while i was lounging and grabbed the bottom of my shorts and took a little peak and said with a little grin, "you poop mommy?! pee-yew!" she thought that was the funniest thing in the world and because i cracked up she spent the next 15 minutes checking my fake diaper for stinky poop.</div>
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me and micah like to play this game where we are babies and we both fake cry for our "momma nyla"and then watch how she mothers us both. she'll bring us blankets and stuffed animals and give us tons and tons of kisses until we both stop crying. then she claps - a job well done. she's gonna make one mean momma one day. she's the craziest mix of feisty and delicate. she is rough and tumble on the outside but her emotions are as delicate as an orchid, the drop of a hat will cause the biggest sob fest, when it doesn't make me crazy, it's the most endearing, funniest thing you'll ever see...</div>
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jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-71403288999828487612014-06-04T09:34:00.001-04:002014-06-04T09:34:20.334-04:00:: them ::<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0g0Ms8z-_6DzVH4k_5fWDhHjmkOBJqp53F2nIk0RAxyAK-VB9_1IKzjpGmOVVNkI5O0QdjDWRwRPQj-HHsIdZKWTSzjSRxGqHYPhhslGjAIgM37XbuspsViUT9ZEymhpaTvuD6jvlJBM/s640/blogger-image--777998161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0g0Ms8z-_6DzVH4k_5fWDhHjmkOBJqp53F2nIk0RAxyAK-VB9_1IKzjpGmOVVNkI5O0QdjDWRwRPQj-HHsIdZKWTSzjSRxGqHYPhhslGjAIgM37XbuspsViUT9ZEymhpaTvuD6jvlJBM/s640/blogger-image--777998161.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLckVpfhyW0ffY2ZTPgMaeWvSo__E_OX4T7IBJK10JHTCsIv6mffkW5fm4JQdmzTE7w0I9fsg53nK9SCExemhVYkp3YFT2Di79rB4ifejCKmetDCY74lJTZgGiDQncDdxgnsagkWnY3LU/s640/blogger-image-12884667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLckVpfhyW0ffY2ZTPgMaeWvSo__E_OX4T7IBJK10JHTCsIv6mffkW5fm4JQdmzTE7w0I9fsg53nK9SCExemhVYkp3YFT2Di79rB4ifejCKmetDCY74lJTZgGiDQncDdxgnsagkWnY3LU/s640/blogger-image-12884667.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kvTxZjC2is2903_FfpCjrYxc1twHBX1yBgY7qf_BUoa4zU4opAk4LvoHaxjFP_M2ZCuE0klQcqmHYJMFoIep5_u5Fitnxei-6IteMzcruhZ3JPK0avS6aKb8wEzoiPxZTasSy1oAw-o/s640/blogger-image--126773795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kvTxZjC2is2903_FfpCjrYxc1twHBX1yBgY7qf_BUoa4zU4opAk4LvoHaxjFP_M2ZCuE0klQcqmHYJMFoIep5_u5Fitnxei-6IteMzcruhZ3JPK0avS6aKb8wEzoiPxZTasSy1oAw-o/s640/blogger-image--126773795.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d3pxr-9ITJzI41UYEiBQPjnu6K2Fi5gNBXmGr29aurmJj4QQItkySOs1lzjpYbh71t4NVGlUsX02CLLhyphenhyphenLaBtQpYkn_4OzFC1V9YLzpDfvCYVnIxv5o6Mv2IVmemcWTxAl1fpt0038c/s640/blogger-image--222062310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d3pxr-9ITJzI41UYEiBQPjnu6K2Fi5gNBXmGr29aurmJj4QQItkySOs1lzjpYbh71t4NVGlUsX02CLLhyphenhyphenLaBtQpYkn_4OzFC1V9YLzpDfvCYVnIxv5o6Mv2IVmemcWTxAl1fpt0038c/s640/blogger-image--222062310.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQX9uppEzjMBwExthH21NNltjljHk-WxPMedHa6lhk5Lm3uZKPXhHJr3WYABKIPWQMrfnlSVSzCiIT7fx01ip1Wndh6UmwXp0OPDvgra9o6UraFF-xo81xdQRRqK-wLZa3Oyf1bP5KCfU/s640/blogger-image--2008904954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQX9uppEzjMBwExthH21NNltjljHk-WxPMedHa6lhk5Lm3uZKPXhHJr3WYABKIPWQMrfnlSVSzCiIT7fx01ip1Wndh6UmwXp0OPDvgra9o6UraFF-xo81xdQRRqK-wLZa3Oyf1bP5KCfU/s640/blogger-image--2008904954.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ycU2q9fbhYYk4NUBosmRcYpbdQcQ7OoVnUAk5Olni5x6aWBUsjq4HHQMxHjbS28BZOFN15MFt9ZuLiffzkXVH0skTy1j5i3ir2UA0q8w5cVhHkLOetzqkYRoxMV0XsxIrS4K2M9rcSs/s640/blogger-image--428801297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ycU2q9fbhYYk4NUBosmRcYpbdQcQ7OoVnUAk5Olni5x6aWBUsjq4HHQMxHjbS28BZOFN15MFt9ZuLiffzkXVH0skTy1j5i3ir2UA0q8w5cVhHkLOetzqkYRoxMV0XsxIrS4K2M9rcSs/s640/blogger-image--428801297.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have never seen two kids so smitten with each other. It's exactly how I hoped it would be when we thought about adoption and siblings. There are countless times throughout the day I think to myself, "yes, we're doing this, maybe now's a good time to add another tiny human to our family, I've got this."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The part that i overlooked is the intense way, at only three and 17 months, they fight. The biting and spitting and hitting and screaming. It's overwhelming at times. I knew it was coming but man oh man, it came with a vengeance over the last few weeks. And left me, shell shocked and exhausted. It's in those moments I think we must be absolutely insane to consider baby number three. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And although the good days mostly outweigh the bad, I'm learning and trying to not score my days by the tears and bite marks. I'm trying not to keep tallies of the good and the bad moments, to not sit at the end of the day weighing if the day was a success or a failure based on our actions and attitudes, or how many spankings I had to give. On a good day I can recount to Curtis the foibles of the day and laugh. On a bad day I want to curl up under the dining room table by dinnertime and cry. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm trying to give and show grace. And accept it too. And I'll be the first to admit, most days it's a fight to make the right choice. A minute by minute battle. But as I understand it, it's a battle worth waging. And we'll be waging it with two kids or more, so maybe this shouldn't be my deciding factor in determining whether we should make the leap from two to three. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just yesterday Nyla spit at me out of anger at something I told her to stop doing, Micah then looked at me and said, "mom, I think Nyla is spitting cuz she needs a hug."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The wisdom of my three year old. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">think he was</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> right. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Maybe we should all just get in the habit of dog-piling and group hugging each other whether we want to or not. </font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-69086852267892274972014-05-29T11:06:00.001-04:002014-05-29T11:06:26.607-04:00:: schoepfle garden ::<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3VuFHvqWIswgEtIvIeCtRd8PdGSd_JPUPsaODcVkeBP8z_lFK8R-sHwJoWSxysMRZ1OjUShuaH95tr9ibLm33R7MHLSJBch8zlAONnsfmpTIpl1wARrKkJGaNlh5Y4Zy2qvhUtFfYJU/s640/blogger-image-736126370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3VuFHvqWIswgEtIvIeCtRd8PdGSd_JPUPsaODcVkeBP8z_lFK8R-sHwJoWSxysMRZ1OjUShuaH95tr9ibLm33R7MHLSJBch8zlAONnsfmpTIpl1wARrKkJGaNlh5Y4Zy2qvhUtFfYJU/s640/blogger-image-736126370.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIjKzkHmG7L_M4I5LCPBgs-9baJyDqtTKRifkSCBg-lIeH3tJSt5JQ8FpcFI77rFDPu6Rny4n22zUg_mmFEs9Mqov63Ordm2gfi7gkkY8fyg1HTxTGZR0YIZVfwCacVgi1fJ6pC9EMzE/s640/blogger-image-1039125125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIjKzkHmG7L_M4I5LCPBgs-9baJyDqtTKRifkSCBg-lIeH3tJSt5JQ8FpcFI77rFDPu6Rny4n22zUg_mmFEs9Mqov63Ordm2gfi7gkkY8fyg1HTxTGZR0YIZVfwCacVgi1fJ6pC9EMzE/s640/blogger-image-1039125125.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKKTcuMr5dJZeyKzROdCNLsvOJseQjrGX0WXDVLcO-SC_1mL0hOxfJiIG309i8PwlhOcxfr3l5_Ud21-31yfwH_ay3F_umNIldP8w3RWfxt12L_SbZ7FwDNYvZorbAWZPcGjYB8gj-Vo/s640/blogger-image-1221648047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKKTcuMr5dJZeyKzROdCNLsvOJseQjrGX0WXDVLcO-SC_1mL0hOxfJiIG309i8PwlhOcxfr3l5_Ud21-31yfwH_ay3F_umNIldP8w3RWfxt12L_SbZ7FwDNYvZorbAWZPcGjYB8gj-Vo/s640/blogger-image-1221648047.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHO4FWGW0IVQ0n5skDGyzVfu70y9L868hkplT0f0onn4RhwbCAMpSBIRMeUw7AB5uasP3C5H7bBkO1A7-kfhCgUjfO6C8Ia4wkzB0VkRAWQv4Jfxa9LkY7Tk2krRGBRTyTCs0YhM3pUI/s640/blogger-image-122265029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHO4FWGW0IVQ0n5skDGyzVfu70y9L868hkplT0f0onn4RhwbCAMpSBIRMeUw7AB5uasP3C5H7bBkO1A7-kfhCgUjfO6C8Ia4wkzB0VkRAWQv4Jfxa9LkY7Tk2krRGBRTyTCs0YhM3pUI/s640/blogger-image-122265029.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>last sunday after church we and some friends discovered the beautiful Schoepfle Garden. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">we took a picnic lunch, let the kids run free and enjoyed our crazy, loud group of little friends (I think there were 12 kids in all). There was even a children's garden complete with hidden tunnels and slides and an old school merry-go-round that actually worked. we all took turns getting dizzy as the kids rode on horses and pigs and chickens and waved to those watching. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">these are just some of the shots that our friend mike took of our little family. I think we all enjoyed the feeling of roaming the grounds with a ton of friends, everyone looking out for each other's kids and getting in little bits of conversation here and there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-13694602385298939352014-05-28T14:20:00.001-04:002014-05-28T14:32:13.254-04:00coming up for air<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>i just found this post in my drafts folder, but in re-reading it, it still seems pretty relevant:</i></div>
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whew. i feel like i'm just now barely catching my breath for the first time this year.<br />
like 2014 has held me underwater, like a weight around my ankle, pulling me under<br />
as i frantically used up all my air struggling to the surface to try to gulp another breath.<br />
that's what this year has felt like so far.<br />
trying to come up for air just to gulp down another mouthful of water instead.<br />
but now, i think it's finally safe to say i might have caught my breath. i hope i'm not stating that prematurely. i've come up for air and i hope to keep my head above water for a while now.<br />
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i might be making the first few months of the year sound worse than they were.<br />
or maybe not. it's funny how seasons of life can knock you down like a wave, but while in the water you can find yourself floating and happy in the midst of it all.<br />
that was the past few months. or maybe the last year, if I'm being honest.<br />
<br />
the last year was hard, so hard in some ways.<br />
so difficult, yet so completely good.<br />
i cannot imagine our life pre-nyla, nor do i want to,<br />
however, this past year has not been void of struggles. both externally and internally.<br />
<br />
and the idea of more weeks, or years even, of this new normal of changing vomit-soaked sheets once, twice and even thrice a day and this not napping and screaming without end routine was almost too much to wrap my head around. and the idea of adding a third child to our family, although that's what we wanted, was beyond what my mind could even consider.<br />
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and it's funny, just when i felt like i was losing my mind and being swallowed up in self-pity and anger - that was the point when i let God loosen my grip on the idea of needing a healthy, perfect daughter to contemplate the future.<br />
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i gave up my right to nap time.<br />
don't get me wrong, i love me some quiet down time during nap time, but i made a choice that whether i got a 20 minute break or a three hour break, my happiness was not dependent on the latter. my love of my children wasn't dependent on whether they gave me a break. and that's easier said than done. i could have a good day even if i cleaned up lots of vomit and my daughter screamed in lieu of sleeping.<br />
<br />
let's face it, we are learning about our daughter and all the ways she is unlike our son.<br />
all the things she reacts to differently than he did, her emotions, how she digests food even.<br />
how she reacts to pain and frustration. it is just so completely different and in some ways so foreign to this heart of mine. and everything in me wants to hold my love over her head, over his head to be dangled like a treat - so they get it if they are good and i hold it back if they aren't.<br />
<br />
but that's not how love works.<br />
i can only love them because God loved me first and that's not the way God loves me.<br />
<br />
he loves me. he just does.<br />
when i rock my kids to sleep or let them scream it out.<br />
whether i give grace or lose my temper.<br />
he just loves me, and because of that, i'm learning to love like that too.<br />
without threatening to withhold it, without using it as leverage, without demands.<br />
<br />
so, in the midst of months of barfing and migraines and feeling like i'm drowning,<br />
the Lord, pulled my head back up above the water.<br />
<br />
and in the midst of my heart change, nyla has slowly begun to change too.<br />
it's funny, soon after i gave up my right to nap times, she slowly began to sleep again.<br />
and just when i stopped cussing under my breath as i wiped vomit out of curly hair and hardwood floors and sheets, she has begun to vomit less and less.<br />
we've gone weeks, and daresay even months now without wiping vomit from lips and shirts and sheets.<br />
<br />
i'm not saying there's a correlation, but i see the grace in it all.<br />
<br />
and in the midst of the moments of where we felt like we were sinking, there were many moments in between, lungs full of air and breathing steadily, hopeful and ready for whatever's headed our way...<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-92066908883983848102013-11-25T10:03:00.002-05:002013-11-25T10:03:29.737-05:00it's almost been a year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
i'm already thinking about nyla's first birthday.<br />
not about a party or gifts, but of all the emotions that were encompassed in that week - almost a year ago - the week of her birth.<br />
the day she was born - december 16, 2012 - i didn't even know she existed in this world,<br />
that thought alone is enough to bowl me over and lose it.<br />
i know some families miss so much more than a child's birth and first week of life - weeks, even years, but for us, the hours that fit into less than six full days felt long, so long.<br />
<br />
our girl was born on a sunday and we came to know her on a wednesday.<br />
we came to love her on that wednesday too.<br />
not because we could see her, or smell her milk breath or touch her feather-soft black baby curls,<br />
but because someone on the other end of the phone told us she was ours if we wanted her -<br />
<br />
and oh - we wanted her.<br />
<br />
from that moment on wednesday morning until the moment we first laid eyes on this tiny girl in a big carseat, dressed in red velvet and a white headband - we were obsessed with her.<br />
<br />
that's the only way i can describe it. obsessed.<br />
<br />
every thought i thought for the next three days was about her. what she was doing, how she looked, how much she would weigh in my arms.<br />
<br />
i'm not exaggerating when i tell you that between wednesday morning's phone call and saturday morning i couldn't stomach more than a bite of food at every meal, more than a sip of coffee before nervous, excited, anxious jitters would consume my appetite, my mind, my entire body really.<br />
<br />
sleeping pills were the only thing that helped me sleep those three nights when all i could do was stare at the one picture we'd been given of her - a closeup shot of her little face, fast asleep with a baby hat on.<br />
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<br />
but now, when i look at her, i don't see that baby everyday - i honestly don't even think about that week all that much anymore - now all i see is my daughter - my feisty, spunky, cuddly, emotional, stubborn beautiful daughter.<br />
<br />
my brown-haired, brown-eyed, brown-skinned beauty and i barely remember the fact that i wasn't there on the day she was born, or on the day she was released from the hospital or there to rock her on her first night home, or to give her her first bottle.<br />
<br />
i don't think about it much anymore, but today i do.<br />
<br />
today, i remember and thank God for the firsts we do share. our first time hearing her name and seeing her picture on my phone. the first time we laid eyes on her in the flesh and the first time they handed her to me.<br />
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<br />
the first bottle i gave her in a columbus barnes and noble<br />
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<br />
and the first night she slept in our room.<br />
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<br />
there is so much to be thankful for amidst the loss that's also mingled with our gain. and it's thanksgiving week so now is as good a time as any to start remembering, right?<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-87850201241192520672013-10-10T12:42:00.002-04:002013-10-10T14:48:39.754-04:00worth sharing: a hard week in review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*despite the hard week, these two still make my heart beat fast and furious with love</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
last week most of my energy was spent frustrated, exhausted, angry, resentful, and just plain pooped.<br />
<br />
Micah has hit a whole new level of insubordinate disobedience, rebellion, and anger. At some points last week i felt like i was being abused, all his emotional energy, frustration and anger was targeted at me. the yelling, hitting, screaming when not focused at his little sister, was spewed directly in my direction. It took all the energy i had not to explode right back at him during his outbursts. I admit i failed on more than one occasion. spankings were given, prayers were said, but day after day it all felt like one big ball of parental failure.<br />
<br />
lunch with my mom and grandmother ended in me sitting with him outside the restaurant while they ate.<br />
<br />
a bible study/playdate with a girlfriend was peppered by temper tantrums and tears.<br />
<br />
by sunday i didn't even want to go to church. my energy - physical, emotional and spiritual felt zapped and drained. the well was dry, i felt empty to my toes. only in retrospect do i see that that is just the place God likes us. desperate, empty, pleading - no begging - for mercy, like the weakling in an unbalanced arm-wrestling match. that was me.<br />
<br />
so despite wanting to stay in bed, buried in blankets we went.<br />
<br />
and just like i should've expected both our kids were ridiculously crazy. nyla was trying to squirm out of my arms, only wanting to crawl on the ground, crying when i wouldn't let her roam free. micah wanted to stand "like his own" next to us but from experience he just wanted to find another miniature co-conspirator to his anarchy against sunday mornings. So in Curtis' arms he yelled and screamed to "get down" until he had no choice but to take him to the back. Eventually i was left there, in my seat, butt down on the chair while everyone else was standing and singing, and no doubt judging out lack of control with our mere two kids when many of them have oodles more, all well-behaved, singing along and honoring their mothers and fathers. (yeah, i know that's not what was actually happening, but it always feels like it doesn't it, when in fact, all the other parents of littles are probably in the same boat as us, thinking the same self-depricating thoughts as i) but either way, i was annoyed at my kids, annoyed at God for bringing us all the way to church to do this - discipline. crowd control. but definitely not worship. what was the point?<br />
<br />
When we finally got both kids settled in their respective sunday school classes (the nursery for Nyla) we both breathed a sigh of relief. the sermon began by our friend jonathan, and it was good. on a passage i had never understood, so i read along and took notes.<br />
<br />
not five minutes after it started i got a tap on my shoulder. Nyla was inconsolable in the nursery. i sighed. of course she was. as i was closing my bible to get up and get her, Curtis said, "you stay, i'll go get her." and so he did. and i stayed and listened.<br />
<br />
the sermon was great, but it was something he said, almost unrelated to the passage but relevant to his application points at the end that hit me hardest. he said, <i>"we've come to believe that we can't worship unless all our preverbal and preferential stars are aligned."</i><br />
<br />
and then i was convicted. in that moment i knew my preferential stars were my kids. whether it be obeying, behaving, napping, being quiet, listening when i spoke, when they are none of those - even now and as i type and nyla cries - Jesus is calling me to worship despite all these seemingly out-of-my-control stars. when they aren't aligned but falling, and falling fast.<br />
<br />
And then it was over. we got our two crazies and we went home, the sermon still swirling in my head.<br />
<br />
Then a book i had ordered the week before came in the mail. It's called Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot. this is what the first page said, it was merely part of the intro by Annie Keary (1825-1879):<br />
<br />
<i>"I think i find most help in trying to look on all the interruptions and hinderances to work that one has planned out for oneself as discipline, trials sent by God to help one against getting selfish over one's work. Then one can feel that perhaps one's true work - one's work for God - consists in doing some trifling haphazard thing that has been thrown into one's day. It is not a waste of time, as one is tempted to think, it is the most important part of the work day - the part one can best offer to God. After such a hinderance, do not rush after the planned work; trust that the time to finish it will be given sometime, and keep a quiet heart about it."</i><br />
<br />
then mere hours later i read this in a book Curtis is reading that i just happened to pick up later in the day:<br />
<br />
<i>"How many moments of pain are wasted because we never sat still long enough to learn from them [...] the seed of God's word won't grow to fruitfulness without pruning for rest, quiet and calm." </i><br />
-from Crazy Busy: A (Mercifully) Short Book About a (Really) Big Problem by Kevin DeYoung<br />
<br />
Since Micah was born i haven't been a reader like i was pre-children, but this week God knew not only that I needed to read, but also <i>what</i> i needed to read. Case-in-point, like these verses in Colossians during my (helter-skelter) bible study with my friend Katie yesterday morning (while surrounded by our four kids, all 2.5 and under - hence the helter-skelter part):<br />
<br />
It said: <i>"May you be strengthened with all power according to His glorious might <b>for all endurance</b> and <b>patience with joy</b>, giving thanks to the Father who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light [...] continue in the faith, <b>stable and steadfast</b>, <b>not shifting from the hope of the gospel </b>that you heard..."</i><br />
-Colossians 1: 11-12, 23<br />
<br />
John Calvin said the human heart is <i>"a thick forest of thorns</i>," and i have found that to be true in me. over and over and over.<br />
<br />
Elisabeth Elliot goes on to say:<br />
<i>"Our enemy delights in disquieting us. Our Savior and Helper delights in quieting us [...] The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances."</i><br />
<br />
Amen and amen.<br />
<br />
<i>"Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup, and have made my lot secure [...] The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed I have a beautiful inheritance."</i><br />
-Psalm 16:5-6<br />
<br />
so maybe among the many thorns last week, a bud. i know it's not spring but it feels like somethings growing. and with growth, growing pains are inevitable, but definitely not a waste of time.<br />
<br />
"<i>It is not a waste of time, as one is tempted to think, it is the most important part of the work day - the part one can best offer to God."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-42776022950004222522013-06-25T16:08:00.001-04:002013-06-25T16:08:14.846-04:00and it is FINAL!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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at 3pm June 24, 2013 (yesterday) we met our lawyer, stepped into this little courtroom and waited for the judge to rule the finalization of Nyla's adoption.<br />
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the questions started off easy, are you Jessica Penick? yes. Is (this) your current address? yes. Is this your signature on this form? yes. Then the questions got a little less straight forward. Were you convinced or coerced in any way to adopt this child? no. do you realize that after today, nyla will be your legal daughter and any costs associated with her, including medical fees, will be your responsibility? absolutely.<br />
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after a few more questions the judge looked at Micah who was sitting on Curtis' lap and said, "You must be the big brother. What is your name?" to which micah nervously and shyly started biting on his fingers. We responded for the court record, "this is Micah David Penick." The judge then asked, "Micah, how do you like being a big brother?" It was at that moment that micah smiled, turned to Nyla and said, "I love Nyla!" It was the perfect response to what each of us was thinking and feeling. She is our daughter and has been since the moment we heard she was ours on December 19, 2012, three days after she was born.<br />
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After the judge was through with his questioning, our lawyer asked us a list of questions, mostly yes or no, for the record. It was an interesting, but also a surprisingly short hearing for how monumental it felt for us.<br />
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At the very end he pronounced that Nyla Grace Penick's adoption was officially final. She would be given a social security number (instead of an adoption ID number) and her original birth certificate would be sealed and she will be issued a new birth certificate that has our names on it under mother and father. How amazing is that. On paper (and in our hearts) it's as though she was biologically born to us. so awesome!<br />
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We then took photos with the judge, which you can see above. Our lawyer took the shots as Curtis made a passing joke about her photography fees costing $750 like her services did.<br />
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Then we left with our friends who came to support & celebrate with us and headed out in the blazing heat to celebrate with ice cream. then we said our goodbyes and headed back to Cleveland to start our new post-finalization life together.<br />
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And that my friends is the end of Nyla's adoption story. She is no longer our adopted daughter. She was adopted. Now she's just our daughter.<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-32630539054927065742013-05-20T14:52:00.000-04:002013-05-20T14:52:10.651-04:00catching up. well, not really but i just found this cute update in my drafts folder.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i wrote the following right after i ended my series on the story of nyla's arrival. i guess in foggy mommy mode, i forgot to hit the publish button. it's funny how a few months can change so much...<br />
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<i>we celebrated christmas as a new family of four</i></div>
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<i>curtis turned 30</i></div>
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<i>we rang in 2013 in bed, catching our zzzz's between feedings</i></div>
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<i>we got into a new rhythm of normal (albeit a sleep-deprived, crazy type of normal)</i></div>
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<i>we were up a lot in the night with no rest during the day</i></div>
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<i>but now... oh, we've reached a good normal</i></div>
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<i>our girl is two months old and she's been sleeping through the night all week</i></div>
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<i>last night she slept almost 10 hours straight </i></div>
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<i>micah will be two years old on monday</i></div>
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<i>and we have reached a new, steadier, normal with two kids</i></div>
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HA! now Nyla is 5 months old and Micah is well past 2. </div>
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Curt's been 30 for months now and i'm 4 days away from 31. </div>
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Nyla and Micah both sleep 12 hours a night and their afternoon nap gives me at least a couple hours of peace and quite.</div>
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It's a good life we've got - today after our second to last (!) social worker visit we spent the rest of the morning in the backyard, micah splashing away in the baby pool while nyla laid on a blanket under the shade of the umbrella. and i, well i sat close enough to nyla to entertain her while still getting my legs in the sun and close enough to micah to throw helicopter seeds at him in the pool and to remind him to stop drinking the water in the pool. </div>
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It's going to be a fun summer with these two - not a lot of r&r, but as soon as i figure out the best way to take two kids to the city pool alone and we'll be set.</div>
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jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-5774975639658483542013-05-19T15:10:00.001-04:002013-05-19T15:10:00.892-04:00Don't be crazy, be happy.a few Fridays ago we went to lunch with Nana (my grandma).<br>
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On the way there i told Micah that I wanted him to behave. <br>
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From the backseat he then asks, "behave means mommy?"<br>
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Instead of answering him I asked a question right back, as i've started to do a lot lately because his answers are both hilarious and usually spot on. <br>
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So i asked him what he thought behave meant:<br>
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He said, "don't be crazy, be happy."<br>
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Yup, that pretty much sums it up kid.<br>
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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5PY5t-25xcuiCQvk2d2e3_PVYesLrsNpuwn_rga3XUfUuYkzxa-ZHJjiZOpPUf_oRPcTKIEoZHjxisxru6yrmSOSNdEwdSVEexpsoeqKR232nfJH-xSuSOFmfZ9jycAEAa-2ix6Up_V8/s640/blogger-image-1071623883.jpg" /></a></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-43106975051682983572013-05-19T15:07:00.001-04:002013-05-19T15:07:36.363-04:00love these two<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd_XQu7uVJ1deFb_F0dZqHaF0nTM53r6u8CX6sZ_1zvWSwZXwc17UyHTqfHA6Hl4t6zKnvj1fGZHjCpLj3bCreZQ4DxFSjAFLT_EdqomzR2uComTX_2u2BYHiudkGb7yJu_julOoqIqs/s640/blogger-image--1371145837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd_XQu7uVJ1deFb_F0dZqHaF0nTM53r6u8CX6sZ_1zvWSwZXwc17UyHTqfHA6Hl4t6zKnvj1fGZHjCpLj3bCreZQ4DxFSjAFLT_EdqomzR2uComTX_2u2BYHiudkGb7yJu_julOoqIqs/s640/blogger-image--1371145837.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ncODFcNITzSgxytII0RUUam7IlvIaENGDgJv9hi_J5T7T8mK7ijqr_Tw9FAIkFYBzdSSQjhlsFxfRTLwsmEU8pdp8rRHHjGZPBI2pbHoJlB7eIWz-AL3F81CTv-aK1AGr6Bk7Mwdm4I/s640/blogger-image--1184707227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmr1_aN-cwlWlwbEHL49yTIuNgwR3OG80ir-3M58FUKhCqXqsZ4ITw7QBDb-Rt7tDOGj7v7NBfapvNEwdhSfZJLl-tiwag5eZXrfOfAy2eiJnJXk-o4rctrr_uQVlDVnwZdcXX4Tn2LTE/s640/blogger-image--1703973865.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">if you can't tell I love these little rugrats. like love LOVE them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">for all the hard moments there are a hundred amazing, hilarious, endearing ones. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">they are awesome & make every day exciting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">sometimes during naptime or after they go to bed at night I look through the pictures of the day on my phone and just smile. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">or we'll lay in bed at night and I'll show curt the funny little videos I took. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">when the sleep I'm always glad for the break, but I gotta admit, sometimes I miss them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but when I do I can just sneak a peek at them on their little webcams in their rooms and watch their peaceful little faces as they snooze away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-44854732790194803832013-04-12T14:57:00.001-04:002013-04-12T14:57:51.669-04:00catching up, kinda...Gosh it's been a while hasn't it. <br />
Since my last post the boy turned two, the girl turned three months, now almost four, we limped our way through february and march weighed down by colds and pink eye for him and then me then the stomach flu for me and then both boys and then an array of sickness for the wee one that showed up in many ways, the most awful of which was thrush, which, even gosh, six weeks later we still are seeing and feeling the lingering affects which include refusing to eat, a lingering cough, perpetually runny nose. <br />
<br />
The house is mostly better now, except Nyla who's still having a hard time eating some days. After a couple "better" weeks, the last couple days have been crummy again. Not much compared to the blood curdling screams and sobs that came with every feeding a mere few weeks ago, the ones that left me in a puddle on the floor, tears streaming for both of us, but still, frustrating to say the least. <br />
<br />
At one point Micah, having witnessed my many low points both with anger and sadness came up and put his small hand on my back and rubbed it one afternoon during the worst of it, as I sat, Nyla in my lap, the both of us in tears. <br />
<br />
"mommy sad." he said. "It otay mommy." <br />
<br />
And it was when he said it, and still is. <br />
<br />
For weeks I'd ask him before bed or nap what he wanted to pray for and he'd say, "dat nyla drink her bottle" because he'd heard me pray similar prayers throughout the long days spend couped up at home. <br />
<br />
So yeah, that's where I've been lately. Holding down this fort of four. And I can't say that I've done it gracefully or joyfully most days. It's been a hard couple months to be honest. <br />
<br />
For a while I kept thinking when spring comes all will be we'll again, but honestly, it's not about the weather. A sunny day helps but more than that it's just how I approach my lot. And candidly, and my husband can attest, I've done a piss poor job with it. I've said the f-word too many times to count, made dinner grumpily, fed bottles angrily.<br />
<br />
but really it's not all bad when I step out of myself and peer in the widow to our home. There are lots of higgles and hugs and kissed amidst the tears and whining and pity parties. <br />
<br />
We are making it with a lot of apologies and a heaping helping of grace. <br />
<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3B42xRUDRcuIBKLWo-7mw3rueyka7lojyC4qABgNWUmw-RWVnrr9j-0UX80vP_-y84K0_tTdj5wmvx-OkA1tqLbHtSMKTYJ0bOisy2MNyFbcjFhKbaT__zupgGaP5nZzEkBhAF8e8jc/s640/blogger-image--1174963921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3B42xRUDRcuIBKLWo-7mw3rueyka7lojyC4qABgNWUmw-RWVnrr9j-0UX80vP_-y84K0_tTdj5wmvx-OkA1tqLbHtSMKTYJ0bOisy2MNyFbcjFhKbaT__zupgGaP5nZzEkBhAF8e8jc/s640/blogger-image--1174963921.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07Vgj5jP-NQsIGzyjw5vbAdw3fMi2JLzFb6VcRcaM9yt2EwJayff93NlYkEfXfvq6zMH9hYQSoQtk8M5rAMQlKU51xr6BQ1LJpLVVfAaGhgDQ904-l0ld77GOt5hhjWQoop4VlvVyBbM/s640/blogger-image--1655988543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07Vgj5jP-NQsIGzyjw5vbAdw3fMi2JLzFb6VcRcaM9yt2EwJayff93NlYkEfXfvq6zMH9hYQSoQtk8M5rAMQlKU51xr6BQ1LJpLVVfAaGhgDQ904-l0ld77GOt5hhjWQoop4VlvVyBbM/s640/blogger-image--1655988543.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-Xa2jfWSPlGPDl56OUTrY5lFVdpF4Jun_Wcs2sVonjNNMAaHnMECfHbTb84pFtaVBWK2Ap3KEPVEpTeRgt_3YiocLrrXHgj70bv9gMeMfOwv4kKi3pjaVR7PjQCFzk5UAJMFYf1cLjs/s640/blogger-image-397293848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-Xa2jfWSPlGPDl56OUTrY5lFVdpF4Jun_Wcs2sVonjNNMAaHnMECfHbTb84pFtaVBWK2Ap3KEPVEpTeRgt_3YiocLrrXHgj70bv9gMeMfOwv4kKi3pjaVR7PjQCFzk5UAJMFYf1cLjs/s640/blogger-image-397293848.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbonNHP7UoLJBZtIUi4Bxhwuu6WVYAohJnxlz11fklKsbBhh2x-WnN8sCTJs5bRKx4MiDwLBdm2cjt_ULXvTmaFZX70rVmARwuvGuGdzeXgtyvtjljEJjHJ5CsfqCMR37uRXjxAHWwzM/s640/blogger-image--1142848196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbonNHP7UoLJBZtIUi4Bxhwuu6WVYAohJnxlz11fklKsbBhh2x-WnN8sCTJs5bRKx4MiDwLBdm2cjt_ULXvTmaFZX70rVmARwuvGuGdzeXgtyvtjljEJjHJ5CsfqCMR37uRXjxAHWwzM/s640/blogger-image--1142848196.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRssUZTysvzwWRZfzQlThPBEeZ9qzTFZEyzUxQ4cpMFHJ2pGVZHws6iRJUHYvjfm-I8QkiC-OhpMMKOgPg2W-D-iB9iALfWR469ve1raJL29xGS_ZJnaH98d-G_B0-UmyFEizMVsa_5z8/s640/blogger-image--1771349178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRssUZTysvzwWRZfzQlThPBEeZ9qzTFZEyzUxQ4cpMFHJ2pGVZHws6iRJUHYvjfm-I8QkiC-OhpMMKOgPg2W-D-iB9iALfWR469ve1raJL29xGS_ZJnaH98d-G_B0-UmyFEizMVsa_5z8/s640/blogger-image--1771349178.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMNVxA1GY0rey_DRSuFaIDVWS8D_ny4yCZjJgrKMEoY0K2I8h4dgSiJdBoxuw_Uq62tW8m1LTrQDZPQUJaosGfkx6r4xRbQAVqygkMZocUG08oa8idqEYbsQpKdom7O4nACt8mq3Ze3Y/s640/blogger-image-1880644229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMNVxA1GY0rey_DRSuFaIDVWS8D_ny4yCZjJgrKMEoY0K2I8h4dgSiJdBoxuw_Uq62tW8m1LTrQDZPQUJaosGfkx6r4xRbQAVqygkMZocUG08oa8idqEYbsQpKdom7O4nACt8mq3Ze3Y/s640/blogger-image-1880644229.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QVyz8cU6L6HgPanhv57YqG2dzgRUsZHtD9WQ72t8uvpNy8pD8YNXRrhCf1gwJ8-5-OtcH5ladn7HNSzCfJuxw5uEjHmBR5tzyhYq3lFcnF9Szu4LrVeNQ4d0QZSVY9op95pOgb0ab44/s640/blogger-image--214665867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QVyz8cU6L6HgPanhv57YqG2dzgRUsZHtD9WQ72t8uvpNy8pD8YNXRrhCf1gwJ8-5-OtcH5ladn7HNSzCfJuxw5uEjHmBR5tzyhYq3lFcnF9Szu4LrVeNQ4d0QZSVY9op95pOgb0ab44/s640/blogger-image--214665867.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9-aB9AnFeSGV3J8Hr7-qM4Ja_igUl03cIO8iN5gxm3BkYRJTJDX7TYhB9jokOoWlhOc70EvXAInZ4VtCqP0uRakNsgZPd32Hqde_e6ax-pLnAIZLRYMZ-V4MacqeZU3nhy2RjBtgMSY/s640/blogger-image--528050808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9-aB9AnFeSGV3J8Hr7-qM4Ja_igUl03cIO8iN5gxm3BkYRJTJDX7TYhB9jokOoWlhOc70EvXAInZ4VtCqP0uRakNsgZPd32Hqde_e6ax-pLnAIZLRYMZ-V4MacqeZU3nhy2RjBtgMSY/s640/blogger-image--528050808.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UQgtzHMjnST0fMcLcAbZzVB3TAZPgcobkYDoyD5-Am52kiSqko4eTy7LiT1XMnxxLFl-DiIRvwVm9rc7uaoKSMYHVcaJirvGy2EMK8bYztqfjJ9l_XwTRLIOMfOfjrIm_DDyH8V8RZk/s640/blogger-image-1794863025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UQgtzHMjnST0fMcLcAbZzVB3TAZPgcobkYDoyD5-Am52kiSqko4eTy7LiT1XMnxxLFl-DiIRvwVm9rc7uaoKSMYHVcaJirvGy2EMK8bYztqfjJ9l_XwTRLIOMfOfjrIm_DDyH8V8RZk/s640/blogger-image-1794863025.jpg" /></a></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-23339885750420896442013-03-22T12:37:00.001-04:002013-03-22T12:39:18.306-04:00just claiming my blog on bloglovin<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/3472388/?claim=wdd5d427h5u">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a><br />
<br />
i heard the news that my dear google reader is going away this summer - so i switched it up and jumped on the bloglovin train before i forgot.<br />
<br />
so if you wanna...come follow my blog on bloglovin...if you want :)jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-85827288742310713022013-03-14T09:35:00.001-04:002013-03-14T09:35:52.530-04:00an encouragement to me, and maybe an encouragement to you tooIn light of her adoption, in light of our adoption too:<br />
<br />
"But Zion said, 'the Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me.'<br />
'Can a woman forget her nursing child,<br />
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.<br />
Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.' "<br />
<br />
Isaiah 49:14-16<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZkI8pKVCVsjbCZMW6E85L_ZeCri9T3DaesUeE1kRRDQv1r2C6-qOcfVS_PhvQSEm1qxv4FzRYK-Qviyw3PAbclXnCdacX1xpfIuFe0Ov0aa__Ir9AP_CGnN2-P45R3fh_-tLhbZeBCc/s640/blogger-image-1972705624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZkI8pKVCVsjbCZMW6E85L_ZeCri9T3DaesUeE1kRRDQv1r2C6-qOcfVS_PhvQSEm1qxv4FzRYK-Qviyw3PAbclXnCdacX1xpfIuFe0Ov0aa__Ir9AP_CGnN2-P45R3fh_-tLhbZeBCc/s640/blogger-image-1972705624.jpg" /></a></div>jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-41086002194302130622013-02-16T10:06:00.000-05:002013-02-16T10:06:14.720-05:00two months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNjcmvASi3F7mXuK2YhoVIALogzl1uxMmA5tJp4JM_1ME1a45NwxXVeGHhhTUs3Zi0IOCeytOwuFu194oIbj5X6DF2cXo0N_mZXsRweIaqSvGOTPdz3YvWzPbfX8DETK5hzZSuQlRiUo/s1600/nyla-1199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNjcmvASi3F7mXuK2YhoVIALogzl1uxMmA5tJp4JM_1ME1a45NwxXVeGHhhTUs3Zi0IOCeytOwuFu194oIbj5X6DF2cXo0N_mZXsRweIaqSvGOTPdz3YvWzPbfX8DETK5hzZSuQlRiUo/s320/nyla-1199.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUJz57wWaR6aEzdgAfs0nEW-l8NlxXdAAVSopLaB8iPYoyQmN1vuW5f9xFtunjRe4SPUtHvZjQ1U7f7N6JwG39RQhxvJKcP_RRCvRbJK2IjtcfyLboFd-2FoMwWYI2djaEyjnj34Mbkk/s1600/nyla-1036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUJz57wWaR6aEzdgAfs0nEW-l8NlxXdAAVSopLaB8iPYoyQmN1vuW5f9xFtunjRe4SPUtHvZjQ1U7f7N6JwG39RQhxvJKcP_RRCvRbJK2IjtcfyLboFd-2FoMwWYI2djaEyjnj34Mbkk/s320/nyla-1036.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JBd5NZdo364g80wm1owvfX1L4n3Ycx_5vEWaJ93fqS9N_i8HIqMVqE2INzdryOWX9KFWLpVOMpMEpUSE4rYloWC2oRptu_OVsqvBPXCcpR_RF1_1T8otu6WorJL-ZTV8Dzr2ODIH5TQ/s1600/IMG_0761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JBd5NZdo364g80wm1owvfX1L4n3Ycx_5vEWaJ93fqS9N_i8HIqMVqE2INzdryOWX9KFWLpVOMpMEpUSE4rYloWC2oRptu_OVsqvBPXCcpR_RF1_1T8otu6WorJL-ZTV8Dzr2ODIH5TQ/s320/IMG_0761.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
today this little girl is two months old,<br />
and in two days this not-so-little boy will be two years old. <br />
how in the world is that possible?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-9970392805252403542013-02-01T14:17:00.000-05:002013-02-01T14:17:00.087-05:00and the wait is over. as soon as we got in the car we called our case worker, Megan, to let her know how the meeting went, to tell her we were on the road.<br />
we estimated the time we'd reach columbus, since she would be the one meeting us at the Gentle Care offices go through our paperwork with us and to introduce us to foster mom and our daughter for the first time.<br />
so we told her we'd be there in 2 1/2 hours and she said she'd call us as soon as she got word that Nyla's birth mom had finished her paperwork. the call should come in about 15-20 minutes. As we headed out of town we prayed for her - that there would be no doubt in her mind over the next few minutes, that she would have peace and not change her mind.<br />
<br />
Curtis drove as i checked my voicemail. friends that had been praying for our meeting had called to pray for us over the phone, others wondering how the meeting went, the support was overwhelming. we also took photos and a video of us during the drive. you can see how happy were were.<br />
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Just as we were getting on the highway to head south, Megan called back. she had signed and everything was a go. whew. the flood of relief and pure joy was palpable in that car. this was really happening! in a little over 2 hours we would meet our daughter. unless we literally died on the way to columbus, she was ours.<br />
<br />
we spent the next 2 1/2 hours returning phone calls, sending happy texts and just getting more and more excited.<br />
<br />
at one point about an hour into our drive curtis stopped for food. my stomach was also growling for the first time in days. i didn't think i could eat yet, but he ordered me a little wrap anyways. it took me the rest of the trip to finish it but it was the first meal i'd had since tuesday night that i didn't want to throw up after one bite. it felt good to feel good again. not anxious or nervous - but just excited.<br />
<br />
heading into columbus we counted the minutes according to our GPS that we'd get there. but closer to their office Megan told us that she was going to be mean and make us do our paperwork before she had Nyla's foster mom bring her in. She knew that once she showed up with the baby we wouldn't want to go through the stack of paperwork, so she staggered our arrivals by a half an hour. we understood, but were understandably a bit disappointed.<br />
<br />
When we pulled into the parking lot to their office i called Megan who had just gotten there to unlock the door. We got out of the car with the infant car seat. This was the last time it would be empty. when we got back in our car, she'd be with us. it was surreal.<br />
<br />
She let us in the main entrance and led us to their sweet offices. Baby announcements and photographs of families that had adopted with their help lined every wall. I could have stood there for hours looking at ever family, but we had work to do - i wanted to sign the papers so we could meet our girl.<br />
<br />
We hadn't seen Megan since we did our initial weekend of training almost a year and a half ago. she was pregnant then. we hugged and got down to business.<br />
<br />
a stack of papers the size of our mortgage paperwork sat in front of her. luckily she had sent us all of them the day before so we had already read through everything and were ready to just sign sign sign.<br />
<br />
Halfway through the stack foster mom called. she was outside, needing to be let in. my heart started to race but i felt so calm.<br />
<br />
Megan went out to let her in the main entrance and we followed her to the front door to their office not sure if we should follow her all the way out or not. curtis got out his phone. i'm not sure if he took photos or video but we were just giddy with the thought of finally meeting her.<br />
<br />
then we saw them walking toward us, just a glass door separating us from our daughter. Foster mom was chatty, but all i was thinking was take that winter cover off that car seat, i want to see her.<br />
<br />
then she did and the rest is history.<br />
<br />
that initial picture we saw made her look so big and chubby, but she was tiny.<br />
she had on a little red and silver christmas outfit and a little white headband on.<br />
<br />
at one point i think curtis said something about her being so much cuter in person. i said nothing, or maybe i did and i just don't remember. i just remember thinking, i don't want to be rude but i want her out of this car seat. i want to hold her.<br />
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we all walked back to the office we were signing papers in and sat the carseat down on the ground. Curtis got her out and handed her to me. my girl.<br />
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i can't stress enough how completely surreal this moment was, yet so comfortable and natural.<br />
i held her as we chatted with foster mom about her schedule and sleeping and how she was eating. i held her as we signed the rest of our paperwork, as we talked about everything and nothing at all.<br />
<br />
then i changed my first of her itty bitty diapers. on a changing pad laid on the floor just like i do for micah. we took a few pictures with foster mom and her son and then that was it. we all put coats back on and Megan walked us to the front of their offices. she was probably staying to finalize some paperwork and lock up, but then, in the hallway, it was just us.<br />
<br />
it was that same feeling we had as we were leaving the hospital with Micah. That you're-actually-letting-us-leave-here-with-him feeling. the same exact feeling. you mean we're actually allowed to just walk out of this building with our daughter.<br />
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before we left i had curtis stand next to the building directory sign that told where Adoption by Gentle Care was located.<br />
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then that was that. we got in the car and left.</div>
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but we weren't on our way home yet. while we were signing our paperwork one of my best girlfriends - Kate - and her family we driving up from Dayton to Columbus to meet us. We were headed to a nearby Barnes and Noble to introduce our girl to some of her honorary cousins, aunt and uncle. It was the perfect way to start our little journey home...</div>
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then it was time for her first feeding since we'd had her. my time to feed her. you can see how happy i am to do it.<br />
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and after a too short visit, they took our first two pictures of us all together and we were on our way home.<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-71130262766973333902013-01-30T14:05:00.000-05:002013-01-30T14:05:00.202-05:00and we finally meet the woman who made us parents againthere is a fragile line i walk in writing about our meeting.<br />
as much as it is my story - our story - it is, before even mine - Nyla's story.<br />
so carefully, i proceed...<br />
<br />
we got to meet and sit and talk to the woman that carried our daughter.<br />
the woman that made possibly the most selfless decision there ever was to make.<br />
she decided that for the good of her and her other children that she would entrust us to care and raise Nyla to be ours.<br />
<br />
words cannot express the weight of this meeting. the honesty and sincerity and vulnerability was so thick in that little corner booth.<br />
<br />
before we got to talking we went up to the counter and ordered some breakfast, even though, i don't think any of us were in any mood to eat or drink.<br />
coffee for me and her social worker. coffee and a cinnamon roll for Curtis. a chai latte and a egg sandwich for her. i have kept that receipt for her baby book. tangible evidence that she was real, she likes chai just as i do, that we ate and talked. the time and price were noted and i never want to forget.<br />
<br />
after we fixed our beverages of choice we sat down after some chit chat while we waited for our food and drinks and got down to it.<br />
<br />
it was beautiful. one of the most treasured hours of my life. we shared pictures of our kids. she told us about hers and we told her all about micah.<br />
<br />
the truth that lies beneath any judgment anyone may ever make about a woman who places a child up for adoption is this - we are all more similar that we often want to believe. in the end she is just a mom doing the best she can. i can relate to that. she is a beautiful woman. a woman i could easily have been friends with - and who knows - maybe we still can be one day.<br />
<br />
before we left, curtis asked if she minded if we all took a picture together. she shyly smiled and obliged with a joke about how she hates pictures of herself. i agreed and we laughed together.<br />
<br />
since then we have placed those photos in our safety deposit box at the bank - saved for Nyla and noone else.<br />
<br />
she also let her social worker take a little video of her chatting with us - just for a minute. it was curtis' idea - to have a little snippet of video to save, where Nyla could one day see her birth mom in real life, to hear her voice, see her body language and her smile.<br />
<br />
that also went into our safety deposit box. wiped off our computer and our phones. although before we did i must've watched it 30 times. i memorized her smirk, her cheekbones, her jacket. she's important to me and i didn't want to forget.<br />
<br />
the truth of the matter is whether we ever have a fully whole relationship with her or not, we are all intertwined. our families are now connected in a way that few ever get to be. this little baby has given our two families an unspeakable bond that we treasure, no matter how our relationship evolves.<br />
<br />
before we left we all got up from the table and we hugged. she was calm and sure, not a smidge of regret in her smile or hug. we thanked her although those words seemed to fall short, even after an hour of words shared, thank you seemed silly to say, but we said it anyway.<br />
<br />
we then put on our coats and walked out the door, leaving them at that corner table to sign her paperwork.<br />
<br />
we walked hand in hand to our car, with the empty infant car seat in the back seat, two and a half hours away from having a baby to buckle up into it...<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-26598078441459432022013-01-28T10:38:00.000-05:002013-01-28T10:38:00.342-05:00d-dayafter not sleeping much again on friday night, saturday finally came. we both woke up early and then woke up micah early to get him over to my parents for the day. we tried to explain to him what was happening that day.<br />
<br />
"micah, today you are going to become a big brother. you have a baby sister. do you want a baby sister?"<br />
<br />
he seemed cluelessly excited. there was a twinge of pity for my baby boy that was about to enter a whole new phase in his little life. he had no idea what was coming and i was acutely aware that he was only going to be my baby for another hour or two.<br />
<br />
i remember after we were all dressed and ready we still had a bit of time to kill before dropping micah at my parents' house. i paced the house and peed about 10 times. Curtis chose the last 15 minutes to start putting together the baby swing. i could not sit still. i was nervous and excited and anxious. a hundred knots filled my stomach.<br />
<br />
as we got out of the car at my mom's house with micah my nervous bladder kicked in. i ran to her back door then to her bathroom. then i laughed. i almost peed my pants on the way to their house.<br />
<br />
before we left their house Curtis asked my mom to pray for us. she did and it was an emotional, lovely moment. the four minute drive to Panera felt like an hour. we talked about how insane this was that we were going to walk in and meet our daughter's biological mother. walking in to Panera we were nervous. we were 10 minutes early and spotted the her social worker right away. sitting in the back left corner of the restaurant, we introduced ourselves and sat down with her to wait for her to get there. she set us at ease and gave us some suggestions and tips on how the hour would go, how she would guide the conversation if things got awkward. it felt like a long 10 minutes, but with each passing minute i was just getting more and more excited instead of more and more nervous.<br />
<br />
what an opportunity we were being given.<br />
<br />
then we turned around to see her walking in, walking toward us and all fear and anxiety lifted and there was only joy...<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-44686039132455178182013-01-24T10:30:00.000-05:002013-01-24T10:30:00.981-05:00coming to grips with pinkLuckily since our families already knew about her by then i commissioned my mom to head out shopping with me. After all, i needed newborn diapers and a few other baby items.<br />
<br />
Before we went though, i dug through all of Micah's newborn clothes. I pulled out all the green and white and yellow little onesies and hats, socks. I'm not a real girly girl but i knew that i'd need at least one girly outfit to take her home. As much as i like hand-me-downs, i knew this little lady needed at least one special outfit of her own before family no doubt showered her with gifts on christmas.<br />
<br />
So i brought my mom to target and i remember just standing in the little newborn girl section. it was all so...pink. I think i was still in shock. the color of pepto bismol pink kind of made me nauseous, pastel - even worse. so we walked around and i tried to talk myself into all the little itty bitty frilly girlie things.<br />
<br />
Curtis had told me to get the necessities and gave me permission to buy her one outfit. She was only going to be six days old when we picked her up after all. she didn't need much. But what was i going to buy her in a sea of pink?<br />
<br />
I ended up buying her a sweet black and white floral top with coordinating striped leggings trimmed with hot pink. it was so me - not overly sweet, but actually kind of cute and funky. mixed prints. i was sold. I told my mom after we spotted a few other sweet things that she ended up buying her - oh man, this is going to be hard, they do have a lot of cute stuff for girls. i slowly found myself coming to grips with all the pink.<br />
<br />
so we left, with diapers and outfits and little infant socks rimmed with pink and purple.<br />
<br />
we then headed back to my mom's house for nap time. i didn't think i could sit through another nap time in silence alone while micah slept, so i put him to sleep at her place so i could have some company.<br />
<br />
However, after not sleeping for two nights, i ended up falling asleep <span style="background-color: white;">in their living room chair while watching tv.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">when micah woke up we headed home for dinner and to spend an evening setting up for baby.</span><br />
<br />
we hooked up the infant car seat in the back seat of my car, we set up the bassinet and the bouncy chair, we found the swing in the garage. This was actually happening. While most people have nine months to prepare, we had 48 hours. it was the craziest feeling i think i've ever had.<br />
<br />
Then at 8pm, i realized i forgot to buy formula, so out the three of us headed, back to target to stock up before it was too late.<br />
<br />
by the time bedtime rolled around, we were both exhausted and so antsy for Saturday to come. How do you prepare to meet the woman that gave birth to your child. What do you say to the woman who was selflessly choosing you to love and raise her baby?<br />
<br />
You don't, i guess. Going to bed (of which i didn't sleep a wink again) my prayer was that we would really be in the moment for that hour with her the next day. that my shyness or introvertedness wouldn't get in the way of telling her all the things i wanted her to know. That we'd be able to enjoy her company and really listen to her. to ask the right questions and have the right answers. To remember every part of her, just in case we wouldn't see each other again. so we could one day tell Nyla every single part of that visit.<br />
<br />
So that night, I went to bed with an excited, but also a heavy heart knowing that tomorrow was going to be a day i'd always remember...<br />
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<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-54581126757478347612013-01-21T15:13:00.000-05:002013-01-21T15:13:15.652-05:0024 hours down, 24 to goall night i couldn't sleep - again. i just kept turning on my phone to stare at that picture. i'm serious. all night long i laid there looking at that little face. those cheeks. but friday morning eventually came and that's when we got word that Nyla's birth mom wanted to meet us before signing her termination of rights documents on Saturday morning.<br />
<br />
See, once a mom makes a decision to place her child up for adoption, she has 72 hours to change her mind. This is why, once she decided to do it on wednesday, she had until saturday to change her mind. in many cases, instead of signing all the paperwork and then having three days to change their mind, they have birth parents wait the three days and then sign the papers at the very last hour of the three day mark. That is why Nyla's birth mom was signing her termination of rights paperwork on saturday instead of right when she decided to do it on Wednesday.<br />
<br />
This made for a unique situation. Since Nyla was born on Sunday, December 16 she was only permitted to stay in the hospital until Thursday due to some weird rules at University Hospital downtown, even though the adoption wouldn't go through until Saturday, December 22. Most hospitals don't mind keeping babies past the usual discharge time period if there is a gap in time until papers can be signed. not UH. On Thursday afternoon we got word that UH was discharging Nyla so our agency was sending a social worker from Columbus to pick her up and take her a foster family that they use for situations such as this - a foster family in Columbus.<br />
<br />
it broke our heart to know that our girl was going from being 10 minutes away (although we couldn't see her) to 2.5 hours away until Saturday. Luckily this foster mom was raved about and we knew she would be in good hands until she was in ours.<br />
<br />
All that to say, the plan was to meet birth mom at Panera Bread for an hour, and then she'd stay there with her social worker to sign the papers and we'd head to Columbus to pick up the baby. That way, if something went amiss and she did change her mind at the very last possible moment, we wouldn't be that far into our journey south. We knew that was a possibility, but we prayed it wouldn't be the case.<br />
<br />
Still, it seemed like a lot of pressure to meet her. Although she had chosen us from the stack of bios she was given to review, she said he wanted to meet us before she signed to make sure we weren't crazy.<br />
<br />
all along we've wanted as open an adoption as a birth mom was willing to have. Meeting her just seemed like a natural step in our desire for openness. But naturally i don't mean stress-free. I still couldn't eat, or sleep. I knew i would have to keep really busy those last 24 hours or i'd go crazy...<br />
<br />
<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-36089564569024901762013-01-16T15:09:00.000-05:002013-01-16T15:09:00.935-05:00hiding it in my heart and then spilling the beansso back to the story...<br />
<br />
after getting off the phone with Megan, Curtis had to leave for work.<br />
Megan assured him that nothing would happen today, so he might as well go in.<br />
<br />
Then Micah started to stir - at 9am - what a gift to have the phone call be uninterrupted. it was such a special moment that we got to share together without distractions.<br />
<br />
Before Curtis left for work we decided that we wouldn't tell anyone that day. In reality, there was way too many variables up in the air until Saturday, and the more people we told, the more we'd have to re-tell if something went wrong. if the adoption didn't happen. if she backed out last minute. we knew we wouldn't be able to keep it a secret until Saturday, but for the time being we got to hide our little secret in our hearts for a little while.<br />
<br />
however, we did each call a confidant in the hours before curtis got home from work that day - we were both bursting at the seems and needed an outlet since we weren't together to process.<br />
<br />
i didn't eat all day. every time i tried to take a bite of food i'd feel nauseous and sick. jittery, anxious, excited. every possible emotion wrapped up into a tight ball of live wire nerves.<br />
<br />
Then i had this thought - If we are literally getting a baby three days before christmas i better get my sh** together and get my last few gifts bought and wrapped before my life changes forever.<br />
<br />
so, after getting micah ready for the day we ran to the mall. All i could think as we raced through the mall is that it looks like we were just shopping but no one knows that our lives held a secret. there was a baby waiting for us. a little four day old baby that we hadn't even met yet. it was the craziest feeling.<br />
i only have two days before my life changes.<br />
<br />
I knew my sister was working that day, so i did my best to avoid her there, knowing that if i went to say hi like i always do, i would start crying and spill the beans. so i avoided Saks and got my last two gifts and left as quick as we came.<br />
<br />
The rest of the day was a blur. Micah eventually went down for a nap and i had a few hours of silence just to sit and think. about how i had just finished my job, and how we almost had all the money we needed and how her name is beautiful and how crazy this is that after all this time of reading other people's adoption stories, it was our turn. that some lady actually chose us to parent her child. the thought still gives me chills.<br />
<br />
that evening after curtis got home we decided to call each of our sets of parents. Curtis' first and then mine. then we told our siblings. Reactions were all not-suprisingly different, but all were happy in their own respective ways.<br />
<br />
When we called Curtis' parents, we told them her name and his mom said, "did you know that was my grandmother's first name?"<br />
<br />
Neither of us did. It was just one more confirmation that this was going to be our girl.<br />
<br />
When we called my parents my dad answered and told us my mom was sick in bed with a migraine. I said, "But can you just bring the phone up there, we just need to talk to both of you for just a minute."<br />
<br />
"No, Jess, she's sick. I don't want to bother her."<br />
<br />
"Dad, can you just do it, it'll only take a minute, i'm serious."<br />
<br />
"Why? do you have some news for us?"<br />
<br />
"Yes dad! Now go up there!" (sheesh!)<br />
<br />
So he went up there and woke up my mom and over skype we told them that we got a call for a little baby girl! a healthy, amazing four day old baby girl.<br />
<br />
my mom was groggily happy, understandably so, due to migraine medicine. my dad got choked up.<br />
<br />
the rest of the night was a blur, except for the fact that at one point, they sent us the first photo we ever saw of our girl...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIytAs1IT3k1UqqABxd_V_cwKyKL_Ja0v5ZXmFV6QQL9KWypAVwvIiTtAeSxlKPEWJ3qPyS_rVnBJUSb3lLbV13-nhwsEfUOpJQ6byQ9xyxTggeo0PcsCHW0PmU61NNBm9KL2f2PoeR0/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIytAs1IT3k1UqqABxd_V_cwKyKL_Ja0v5ZXmFV6QQL9KWypAVwvIiTtAeSxlKPEWJ3qPyS_rVnBJUSb3lLbV13-nhwsEfUOpJQ6byQ9xyxTggeo0PcsCHW0PmU61NNBm9KL2f2PoeR0/s320/photo.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-36629636511608362482013-01-14T15:32:00.000-05:002013-01-14T15:32:00.326-05:00the story of her nameFrom the time our case worker, Megan, told us that her birth mom had named her Nila, we both knew that that would be her name.<br />
<br />
Soon after, I decided that I wanted to change the spelling from Nila to Nyla. I didn't want people mistakenly calling her "nilla" instead of "nie-lah"<br />
<br />
i also had this silly thought in my mind that people would try to be funny and call her "nilla wafer"<br />
<br />
i know it was stupid, but as an african american girl in a (so far) all white family, i wanted to take away any opportunity for nicknames that could be offensive, especially if i had the foresight to fend them off.<br />
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After Nyla was decided i remember sitting at the dining room table racking my brain for a middle name.<br />
<br />
I went through our small list of names that we had prepared for a girl and a boy and none seemed to fit with Nyla, so i got online to look up the meaning(s) of Nyla thinking that that might help.<br />
<br />
In Gaelic, Nyla means "Champion" or "Cloud"<br />
In Swahili, Nyla means "Gift"<br />
<br />
What did i want my daughter to be a champion of. What was she a gift of?<br />
<br />
and then it struck me...<br />
<br />
Grace.<br />
<br />
A Champion of Grace<br />
Gift of Grace.<br />
<br />
yet, Grace seemed so popular, trendy even. Yet, i knew, that was it.<br />
in that moment I didn't care how many other girls were named Grace, it was right.<br />
<br />
I texted my friend Kate with my "dilemma" which wasn't really a dilemma at all.<br />
She confirmed. That was just what she was. our gift of grace.<br />
<br />
then i texted Curtis to get his thoughts. i texted him the meanings of Nyla and he was sold too.<br />
<br />
Nyla Grace Penick<br />
<br />
only later that night Curtis' mom also told us that Nyla (spelled Nila in her case) was the name of her grandmother.<br />
<br />
a family name in every sense of the word.<br />
<br />
She is a gift of grace to us, that's for sure.jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5670291515153232620.post-45190269634238138502013-01-11T09:57:00.000-05:002013-01-13T19:08:23.846-05:00the phone call <br />
<div>
It was 8:10 am on Thursday, December 20, 2012. Micah was still sleeping, Curtis was in the bathroom getting ready for work and i was down in the kitchen making a cup of coffee.</div>
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Curtis was running late for work which almost never happens. he's usually at work well before 8, but God knew he needed to be running late this particular morning. </div>
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<br /></div>
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so, there i was, standing, sleepily at the espresso maker, waiting for my coffee when i got a phone call. Blocked it said. I usually never answer Unknown or Blocked calls, but it was early and i wasn't really thinking, so i answered it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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"Hello. This is Jess." i said.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Hi Jess, it's Megan, from Gentle Care. Good morning."</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Uhhh, Megan? Hi (starting to shake a little) What's going on?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Well, i wanted to call because i have a situation i wanted to run by you," she said.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Situation?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"A baby. We have a baby for you but i wondered if you had a few minutes to go through it's medical history with me."</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Wait, what?! Hold on, can i run up and get Curtis on speaker phone?" I said.</div>
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(while running up the stairs and bursting in the bathroom, trying to be quiet enough so as not to wake Micah (who never sleeps past 8, mind you - another miracle).</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Curtis, Megan's on the phone, she's calling about a baby!" i whisper-shouted.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Megan? who? which megan? why is Megan calling at 8am?" (he thought it was someone else)</div>
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<br /></div>
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"No, Curt, it's Megan from Adoption by Gentle Care. They have a baby for us!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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We went into our room and i put her on speaker phone. We are both shaking our heads and literally shaking at this point. my heart is beating out of my chest. She explains the medical history, about the birth mom, the birthday, the labor. </div>
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<br /></div>
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At one point we interupt her and say, "we don't care what you tell us, the answer is YES!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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Then i realize that she hasn't told us if the baby is a girl or a boy. So i ask, "Megan, i'm not sure what the protocol for this is, but are you allowed to tell us if it's a boy or a girl?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Yeah i can tell you." she said, "Do you want to know?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"YES!" we both said in unison. duh! of course we want to know!</div>
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<br /></div>
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"It's a girl!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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Curtis started crying. he's been very verbal about wanting a little girl so bad. i am just in shock and shaking. i always thought i'd have two boys, maybe all boys. but a girl. we're gonna have a boy and a girl. i didn't even know how much i wanted a little girl until that very moment. it's a girl!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
"Her mom named her Nila," Megan said, "but of course, you can change it if you want."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
we both looked at each other and mouthed, "I like that" at the exact same time. and at that moment we knew, her name would be Nyla (with a Y instead of an I) It was beautiful and what a way to honor her birth mom by keeping her name. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"She didn't give her a middle name, so start thinking about that too," she continued after we told her we were probably going to keep her name.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
the call lasted a few morning minutes with her emailing over all her medical and history documents for us to look over, but in our minds we knew, she was already ours. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
This was Thursday morning. If all went according to planned, we'd be picking her up on Saturday afternoon. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It was then that the longest 48 hours of my life began...</div>
jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17615208848271457134noreply@blogger.com0