it’s a pinocchio hippopotamus

Remember that joy I was talking about six bazillion years ago when I last posted? Some of that is coming up for us. We are going to be able to adopt DJ and Lala.

Lots of things (read: paperwork, red tape, and transferring case stuff from one state to another) have to happen first but it’s a go.

Remember I said either our sad is mixed up with someone else’s happy or vice versa? This is our happy equaling someone else’s sad. It’s our joy meaning loss for others and loss for our kiddos. I don’t take the sad and the loss lightly.

In fact, that sad has kept me away from the blog for the last while. I don’t want my words to be razors for anyone.

So please, if you are a person who is sad about this outcome, do yourself a favor and stop reading because I love you and I don’t think you deserve one tiny bit more pain. But I’m going to need to celebrate a little because my happy is very happy and very happy is very good for me and mine.


Oh so selfish.

I don’t mind sharing. I think sharing is good for kids. They can’t get enough love.

But the promise of an adoption decree or two in the very near future makes me weak in the knees – makes me want to gather my kids into a big pile and chant “mine, mine, mine” whilst cackling.

I know! The cackle. It’s too much. In my defense, it’s gleeful not evil.

We have waited a very long time for this patched together life to become a real Thing. Before now, it was like a wooden marionette with a temperamental nose and a disembodied conscience. We pretended it was the same as the real thing. We faked it for the kids because fake was the only good option they had.

But guys. We are going to be a real boy!

I am at the shocked end of the single most crazy ride of my life with an undared-to-wish-for happy ending. I’m quite beside myself. quite.

To be honest, it feels less like happiness and more like the first breath after assuming you’d simply need to adjust to living with your head under water. What good luck! I’m not going to drown after all!

My husband, he is the reserved one, the one who uses phrases like, “cautiously optimistic.” I’m the full-throttle, throw myself into hope and then crash when disappointed, girl but this has taken me by surprise. It’s a hippopotamus for Christmas kind of surprise. We did not expect resolution even at this three-years-into-the-case point. So. Wow. Resolution.

Today, as I chased a two-year-old streaker through the house, begging her to allow me to wrap a diaper around her tush… Today as I dragged a three-year-old who clung to my leg to his chair, begging him to please let me finish making the dinner I knew he’d never eat… Today, I prayed a day-long thank you. And I am going to keep praying that thank you for the rest of my life.


5 thoughts on “it’s a pinocchio hippopotamus

  1. I’m praying for you. I loved this post. I fully understand the loss, but the gain as a child of adoption. I think you should celebrate. Keep the sad in the back of your mind, acknowledging it as you’ve done, but then celebrate some more. Because while the sad is still there, you’re giving those children more than they ever could imagine before. This was meant to be. This family was planned and you followed that plan faithfully and fearlessly. You’re my hero. Opening your heart when others can’t or won’t. I’m wishing you and yours a very happy beginning and I can’t wait to see your journey.

  2. Coming from the side of being a Birth Mother, I can say I am so beyond words in gratefulness that someone took that little girl that i could not do for at that time of my life. She is beautiful woman now with children of her own. I went on to have more children but she was always counted when asked how many children do you have, 7! The sadness or more the hurt never goes away on this side it just gets put deeper into the closet as time goes by. All the kids know her birthday and know I am thinking of her on that day especially. But I would not have had it any other way. I wouldn’t want my selfishness to have cost her a lifetime of pain. So thank you for opening your doors, your hearts, your hurts, your sadness, and most of all opening your home to things unknown and things yet to be. Congratulations cherish every second, they grow all to quickly.

    • Vicki, thank you! I believe the best parents simply and broken-heartedly do what is best for their kids, despite the personal sacrifice and price for the parent. Kids deserve the unselfish love you clearly provided to all 7 of yours. I applaud your unselfishness.

  3. Hooray! I am so so so happy for you! I’m so grateful for the comments posted here, too. I needed to read them tonight. As an adoptive mom, I too struggle with the fact that my happiness is born of someone else’s loss. There’s no way around it. It hurts, and yet it is best. I love the openness and love shared here. “The best parents simply and broken-heartedly do what is best for their kids…” Amen a thousand times. Happy tears!

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