Staying connected, one click at a time

Dear Eli,

One of the big differences in expecting an adopted baby and expecting a biological baby is that you can't feel them. Your big brothers and sisters made me feel sick and tired, gave me heartburn, and kicked the heck out of me. I can't feel you, hold you, or watch you grow. Every so often we get pictures of you, but those are way too few and far between. But now that I hope we've entered into the second half of our wait for you, I've been allowing myself to feel connected in one of the few ways I can-- I'm shopping for you.

I know, this sounds so crass and commercial, and maybe I am a bad person, but buying things for you helps me feel like you're actually going to be part of our family. I love imagining you in the cute little outfits we've bought, especially the ones that match Rose's. A few weeks ago I decided that I'd let myself get you just a few basic essentials-- some stretchy pants and soft t-shirts; the kinds of clothes that would be forgiving if you're a little bigger or a little smaller than we expect. So I got a few, then a few more, and I added in a swimsuit and some onesies and socks and a pair of soft little shoes and a snowsuit (so I can keep you bundled to China granny standards). It was a delightful couple of hours, picking things out and dreaming of you. And then I sat back and realized that other than a pair of shorts and a couple of pairs of pajamas, we now have everything we need to go to China to get you.

And that's great, because we're prepared, but it also stinks, because what am I going to do to pass the time for the next four months? I needed to pace myself!

There's a scene in Mary Beth Chapman's family/adoption memoir Choosing to See in which she and a friend learn that unless they get on a plane THAT DAY they won't be able to get their daughters for months (because of SARS, I think). So they had just a few hours to buy everything they needed, get packed, and get on the plane. Once I realized that I'd bought everything we needed for you, that I hadn't gone slowly enough to stretch things out, it made me wish (and not for the first time) that someone would call and tell us to get on a plane today. Give me an hour to pack and I totally could-- nothing would make me happier, in fact. But that's not gonna happen. I need to go slow, to keep the demons in my brain that have started whispering that our paperwork might not chug along like it should at bay, to breathe deeply, and to be grateful that this waiting time helps me realize just how much I want you to become my son.

Love,

Mommy