A few thoughts, connected by nothing in particular.
The white fixer-upper house with the lovely southern front porch is under contract - and the last contingency is the inspection. That will either go through or not by December 15. I have a
feeling it will go through, which makes me sad. But I still haven't visited its neighbor the tan house, which lacks that fabulous porch (and doesn't have a garage either). But it does have some things to recommend it, among which is a better floor plan. Here, for example, is the living room (way bigger than in the other house):
I'm afraid this picture might be too big to see well, which is tragic. Though it doesn't come together as exactly the ideal living room just now, it has so many things that make me happy...the old wood floors, the pretty wooden mantle, the brickwork all the way to the ceiling, the wood-paneled walls, the exposed wood ceiling beams, the baseboards and crown molding, the bathroom under the stairs (so cute - but if that bathroom door is actually shutters, it has to go. It freaks me out when downstairs bathrooms are right off the main living area as it is - who
wants their friends to hear them peeing?!)
Maybe something like this? It's a color scheme I think we would both like, and I admit I covet this couch.
Or maybe something like this?
Fun to think about. Maybe we'll go visit on the weekend.
I'm late to the party (always) - but there are rays of light shining into the Catholic IFosphere! A pregnancy and an adoption - such blessings. My prayers are with the new parents.
And, in a special way, I am praying with, and very much thinking about, those who are still waiting, who walked similar paths. I suppose with adoption this may be particularly poignant - it's easier to measure that people have been waiting for the same amount of time, have spent the same amount of money, and are waiting still. The rest of the world offers much joy for new babies, and I have nothing special to offer in that regard. My joy is stunted, perhaps. But I often think that what little this odd community, with all its broken members, has to offer, is companionship and strength in sadness. Those who graduate from it have many friends and family members who wish them well. Those who remain are ours, and they need us more. Such is my perspective.
I had an unexpected conversation with my husband after we'd stayed up way too late on a work night. He said something about the awful mentally ill disturbed children we would have had, and I got angry, and told him that if I accepted not having children, it would be happy children that I let go of, not monsters, and what he was saying was horrible and I didn't want to hear it any more. And I showed him the picture of the little girl I found to make a post about my "theoretical child" many months ago. That child looks so much like both of us. He started to cry. He's never cried over us not having children.
The closest he's come to any human emotion ever is to be angry with a friend who made a pregnancy announcement several years ago because I was crying (after we got home). In the past several years all I have heard him say on the subject was that I make too much of it; that he figures we'll eventually adopt so it doesn't matter; and that it's for the best that we didn't have children since they'd be horrible and we'd screw them up. I'll give him this, after several years, he was convincing. I thought he meant it. I thought he didn't care. Although I could picture in my mind how he'd really be if I found out I were pregnant (I have to imagine, since I've never even had a false positive), and I don't think for one minute he would say it was regrettable since the child would be messed up. I know he would be happy.
I can't believe in all this time that I never knew how sad this made him. I can't believe he had me fooled. So at two o'clock in the morning we stood in our bathroom and held each other and cried. I don't know what difference this makes. I don't know that it matters. It's odd that this comes as I'm growing to some kind of acceptance (rather than just denial). Who knows where our path will lead. But I love my husband, and it has been so exhausting to walk this way alone, and I know that this is, whatever it leads to, a blessing.
It's almost four; I think it's time for me to take a shower and run my thrift store errand and get some eggs so I can make my fabulous lemon chicken soup recipe. (And maybe some homemade wheat bread. Got to use up that wheat flour - I thought it would be great, but it's ruined all my baked goods.)
Blessings, infertile friends.