These Are Days. And Those Were, Too.

This past weekend a good friend of ours from college came up from Florida to visit for the weekend.  We spent the days showing her around Atlanta, hopping from art festival to street fair, stopping for tasty local food and great sushi, and capping the weekend off with a dizzying venture through the wide, wide world of Ikea.  We spent the evenings cooking and eating elaborate farmer's market meals together, and laughing and reminiscing about our college days.

We came away from the street fair with a new wallet for Amber and a cute wooden necklace pendant for me.  From Ikea, we bought a box of wine glasses called "Nordby" (Baby name alert!!.... still kidding) for $4.99.  We got nothing from the art festival, partially because everything was a billion dollars, but mostly because whenever we go to arts and crafts festivals, I mutter the whole time "I could make that."  I'm woefully overconfident about both my artistic skills and my motivation to create art.  We still have a stack of wood pieces in the basement, because I swear I'm going to create an exact replica of a $70 wall hanging we saw at a shop in Blue Ridge a few months ago.  Someday.  When I figure out how.

The new necklace I couldn't have made myself.

But, aside from the new material possessions we acquired this weekend, I acquired--or more accurately was reminded of--two even greater things:  1). I love living in Atlanta (see above), and 2). Amber and I are very lucky to have had the profound and life shaping experiences we had in college (see below).

Amber and I met in college.  Eckerd College, in St Petersburg, FL, to be specific.  It was an awesome place, a place both of us still hold dear in our hearts.  Yes, it was on the beach.  Yes, I went to class barefoot on the regular.  And yes, we had a waterski team instead of a football team (Go Tritons!!).

But, it was more than just a four-year vacation to coastal waters.

It was a small, private liberal arts school, with an emphasis on the "liberal."  We didn't have the usual boring courses many schools have.  There was no English 101, no required US History course.  Instead, there was Biodiversity (I & II), Western Heritage, Marine Biology, and the senior capstone class "Quest for Meaning." Don't get me wrong, the classes were rigorous, the professors were amazing, and we learned everything required of a baccalaureate degree.  But, more than just learning, Eckerd promoted thinking.  It promoted exploring the world and our position in it.  We had two regular semesters a year, plus a one month "Winter Term," where you took one intensive, experiential course.  Amber went to Costa Rica and Nicaragua to study their social welfare systems and volunteer at a refugee camp one Winter Term.  I created my own Winter Term program, and spent a month in the rainforest following capuchin monkeys and studying their behavior.

But, it was more than just four years of classroom learning and field trips.

It was a place where separately, Amber and I discovered who we each were, and together, we realized we were meant to be together.

We were both Anthropology majors, and had seen each other around campus and in a few classes since we were freshmen.  But, it wasn't until the fall semester of junior year, when we both took "Cultures of Sub-Saharan Africa" that we really got to know each other.  We hit it off pretty immediately, but it took us about six months to build up the courage to admit it to each other.  In that six months, though, we spent nearly every waking moment together.  We would set out to study for exams together, but would end up staying up all night, talking in Amber's dorm room instead.  We told each other our life stories.  We shared our innermost thoughts, philosophies, and fears.  And we laughed.  We laughed at ourselves, at each other, and at things that nobody else would even find funny.

And finally, after six months of this ridiculousness, I worked up the courage to tell her that I really liked her. That even though I only ever had dated guys before, I was falling in love with her.  That I wanted us to give this whole 'relationship' thing a whirl.

And she said........nothing.  Not a word.  For like, an eternity!  And then she said:

"Oh, that's not AT ALL what I thought you were going to say!"

And I nearly died.  Or at least I nearly cried.  But then, another eternity later, she said:

"Oh, I mean....that's what I was HOPING you'd say.  I really like you, too"

And, so it began.  Twelve years later, I love her just as much as I did that day.  More, probably.  We've really grown up together.  We have so many shared experiences on which we can look back and laugh.  We have a few memories that make us cry too, but who doesn't?  And at least we've gone through the inevitable difficult things in life together.  We're lucky to have each other, and we're thankful for that.

We're looking forward to welcoming a child into our life, and bringing him or her up in a household full of love.  We want our child to see and know what a solid, honest, loving relationship looks like.  Our greatest hope is that he or she will grow up one day and find "the one,"  the way Amber and I found each other, all those years ago.

Then.  Our first picture together (1998).

Now.  Visiting Eckerd 10 yrs after graduation (2009).

{If this blog post was a movie, this song would play over the closing credits}


x's & o's,

Michelle

Pennyslavia

I started this blog to talk about our adoption process.  Then, we actually started our adoption process, and things began to happen. Then, I chickened out and didn't want to write about it anymore.

Fear of jinxing, my generally shy and private nature, an inability to put it all into words...pick your favorite excuse.  But yes, my faithful blog reader(s), the truth is....I have been holding out on you.  But a month has passed, and I'm ready to 'fess up....so hop in the garbage-eating deLorean with me, and let's Marty McFly it back in time...

[Insert wavy visual effect and bloop-bloop-bloop time travel music here]

August 5, 2010

The phone rang.  

The 1-800 number appeared on the caller id.  

My heart couldn't even skip a beat before my rational, analytical brain reminded me that the call was probably just another wrong number.  Someone calling for WaMu or MetLife again.  Some old dude in middle management with his phone on speaker, and a confused "Um....uhh....I think I have the wrong number....." in reply to my non-automated system "Hello?".  I'd been through this so many times already in the little more than a week we'd been on the books.

But, it's good for one to practice one's warm (but not pressuring), friendly (but not overbearing), excited (but not too excited), "Hello?".  So, I sighed, and picked up the phone, and tried with all my might to convey in that one syllable what a sweet, caring, open person I am.  Just in case Rick from Iowa, who was trying to find out about his policy deductible or his overdrawn account balance, cared.

But, it wasn't Rick.

Instead, a woman's voice said "Is this Michelle or Amber?"  

Or maybe she said, "Can I speak with Michelle or Amber?".  Honestly, I don't remember exactly.  Because at the time, all I could hear was the blood rushing to my head, as my heart made up for that almost-skipped beat by banging double-time, right out of my very chest.  

Despite all appearances, I actually am a rather tough cookie...good head on my shoulders, the kind of person you'd want around in a crisis.  I'm a nurse, for godsakes...it's a job requirement!  But there I stood, in the kitchen, hanging on to the counter for dear life with one hand, frantically grasping around with the other for the cheesy "What to Say When a 'Birthmother' Calls" sheet the agency had told us to tack to the fridge door.  All the while, only being able to mentally process the smallest bits of information.

Her name (and I only got that right on the second try!).

Pregnant.

Saw our profile online.

That's about all I got out of the first minute or so.  The "What to Say" sheet was well-meaning, but rendered completely useless in my trembling hands.

But then she started talking.  And slowly, I was able to breathe again.  And, I mean really...thank god for her, because I was a wreck there at the beginning.  I'm sure she was nervous, too.  She had to be....right?!  I mean, what a phone call to make!  All I had to do was answer it, and I could barely even do that!

But if she was nervous, she certainly didn't show it.  We talked for about a half an hour.  We talked about adoption, and the dumb sappy things other people say on their profiles.  We talked about openness, and what we both thought it might look like in real life.  We talked about the child she's parenting, and the one she's pregnant with now.  We talked about what she wanted in life for both of them.

In the end, I do think we hit it off.  I can say at least that I--for one--liked her!  She seemed smart, very analytical and sure of herself.  She was nice, and friendly, and had clearly done a lot of thinking and research about open adoption. All qualities I truly appreciate in a person.

She called back that evening, after her child was asleep, and spoke with Amber for nearly an hour.  Those who know Amber and I are not at all surprised that she doubles me in conversation length.  I am a woman of few (spoken) words.  Amber is a woman of many.  (One of many reasons that we make a great team!)  It seemed like they hit it off really well, also.  They talked about all sorts of things...family, college, travel, life in Atlanta.  I even heard them laughing!  

But, we haven't heard from her again since that evening.  

I still think about her sometimes though, and I can only imagine what she's going through as she works though making her decision...whatever it may be.  Maybe she's decided to parent.  Maybe she's chosen a couple other than us to parent her child.  Or maybe, life is just really complex when you're parenting a young child, carrying another, and making an adoption plan.  She still has a few months before her baby is born, and I imagine a decision as important as this isn't one that you rush.

So, we wait.  And we hope we hear from her again.  But, we try not to get caught up in it, because we knew from the beginning that this was going to be a process.  We prepared for the fact that there would be "contacts" before "matches", and that it's all a little like dating (which, unfortunately, neither of us knows much about!).  Maybe she's "the one,"  or maybe "the one" is still out there, and we just haven't met her yet.

Either way, our "What to Say" sheet now has "Pennyslavia" permanently scrawled across it in my shaky blue handwriting.  Apparently when you're that nervous and in shock, and you're trying (as all nerds like me do) to take notes, all spelling, phonics, and geography knowledge fly out the window, and that's how you think the name of the state between Ohio and New Jersey is spelled.

Wait....is that a good baby name?!

KIDDING, KIDDING!!

x's&o's,

Michelle