It's Valentine's Day. We're celebrating with new books for the adults, candy and little gifts for the kids, and cupcakes for all after dinner. In just a few minutes, your big brothers and sisters will burst through the door with their backpacks full of candy and sweet messages from their friends. The only thing that's missing from making this a perfect Valentine's Day is you. Next year you'll be here to hear Daddy tell about the time that he got pulled off the bus by his second-grade teacher for throwing all of his valentines in the classroom garbage can on his way out the door. He'll probably also tell you about how mad I got at him the year we were engaged and he bought me three carnations for Valentine's Day, which I thought was cheap and lame and a sign that I would get cheap and lame presents forever and ever, a fear which has been unfounded.
But today, I can't wax philosophical or lovey. I'm done. I'm all wrung out. Just before starting this letter, I hit "send" on what I hope will be the final draft of my MFA project, and I'll defend my thesis in twelve days. Working on this novel has kept me sane over the last few months of waiting, but the last few days, when there was a new revision in the inbox every time I checked my email, have just about done me in. I can't write any more, and I sure as heck can't wait any more.
I've heard a rumor that travel approvals may arrive at the adoption agencies tomorrow. I'm so excited and nervous that I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight. Yes, yes, I know, we're still under the average wait time for travel approval, but I have never, ever been a good waiter. Your Mimi and I were talking on the phone today, and she laughed and said, "Well, if you were going through this experience to teach you patience, it sure hasn't happened." It's true; I'm not a whit more patient than I was a year ago when we started our wait for you. And to think that tomorrow we might know, that all of the uncertainty of the waiting might end and I can actually go out and buy plane tickets to China, well, that's almost too much excitement for me to take. But on the other hand, we might not get that phone call tomorrow, and I might have to watch the other people who have been waiting through this paper pregnancy along with me get their approvals. I might end up overdue for the first time since I started having kids, and while it would serve me right, it might just be too much to bear.
So hang tight, my little Valentine. You don't have any other choice, and neither do I. But cross your fingers and say a little prayer that tomorrow, our waiting may finally come to an end.