I wish I was the one carrying you right now.  It really doesn’t bother me that I’m not going to experience a pregnancy.  I don’t need to be pregnant to be a mom and I wouldn’t trade you or Abbi for one hundred kids that I gave birth to.  You and your sister are my babies and I know in the deepest parts of my heart that I am your mother.  And yet, I wish I was the one who gets to feel you move for the first time, who feels you kick, who sees your heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor.  I wish I was the one going to doctor’s appointments and hearing all about how well you’re doing.  But I’m not.  But then I think about what I am going to get.  I get every Christmas morning and every birthday party.  I get thousands of snuggles while reading books.  I get first smiles and first steps and first teeth and first days at school.  I get recitals and ball games and graduations.  I get the midnight feedings and the diaper blowouts.  I get toddler tantrums and teenage testing.  I get a million smiles and a million hugs and a million sloppy kisses.  I get to be your mommy for your whole life…and suddenly I don’t begrudge your birth mother the experiences she is having.  Because here’s the thing- she loves you too.  If she didn’t love you she wouldn’t be taking care of you right now.  She wouldn’t be dreaming of the life she wants for you and she wouldn’t be carefully making this decision and searching for the right family for you.  She doesn’t love you like I do, but that doesn’t make her love any less real.  Do I wish I could be your birth mother and your forever mommy?  Yes.  But, if I can only be one, I’ll give up the nine months in utero for all the years that come after.  It’s a small, small, so tiny I can barely see it price to pay for the extraordinary privilege of being your mom…forever.

…

There are times when it really would be more convenient to be pregnant.  Right now I kinda feel like I’m an undercover mother-to-be.  Like any mom expecting her second child, I case out moms of two when I’m out and about.  How do they do two kids at the pool?  At the post office?  At the grocery?  The thing is, I don’t look like a soon-to-be mom of two.  I’d love to broach the topic of two kids, I’d love to let strangers in the pool know that I’m about to be part of their Mom of Two Club, but almost always I keep silent.  To mention that I’m soon going to have another baby causes people to immediately examine my flat(ish) belly and then look at me with confusion.  And then we have to have The Adoption Conversation.  And you know what?  The Conversation is much more interesting to people who haven’t had it a million times before.  It’s not that we’re ashamed of how our family came to be; it’s that it isn’t very important.  It doesn’t define how we see ourselves, but it very often changes the way others look at us.  We don’t hide from it, but we also don’t initiate The Conversation.  It kinda stinks that I don’t get to advertise that our family is about to grow.  On the other hand, I don’t have random strangers groping my belly.  I guess it’s a trade-off.

Snapshot #1:  Christmas Morning

Eric and I put a lot of stock in traditions.  When we got married, we talked extensively about our family holiday traditions and made a plan about how to take the best of both families to make something that was uniquely ours.  We talked about the order of things (stockings first, then breakfast, then presents? or presents before breakfast?) and the menu for Christmas morning (pancakes?  breakfast casserole?  bacon and eggs?).  We made a great plan, (stockings, then breakfast casserole, then presents) but we neglected one detail.  We have a two year old.  We have a two year old that so loved her Christmas kitchen that she refused to leave.  Therefore, we abandoned our plan on Christmas morning and instead spent the time sitting on the floor in the playroom, plates on our lap, Christmas tree glowing in the corner, watching our daughter play.  Each present was opened in her kitchen and each one was thoroughly played with before she was interested in the next one.  It took hours.  There were dozens of pictures.  I know I speak for the both of us when I say that it was our merriest Christmas morning to date.

Snapshot #2: Christmas Day

If you fast forward about five hours, you’ll find our house absolutely filled to the brim.  We had all the people from Eric’s office to our house for Christmas Day, and it was literally standing room only.  Our counter was overflowing with food, gluhwein simmered on the stove, kids climbed and played and bickered and laughed in the playroom, and football games created a steady background hum to the five conversations that were going on at once.  I ventured from the kitchen only once or twice all day, but it made me smile to cook alongside new friends and enlist young airmen as taste testers and to hear the general chaos of 20-some people crammed into our tiny German living room.  And yes, the rumors are true.  I gave the kids flutes and bubbles in their grab bags.  I stand by my decision.

Snapshot #3: A Flurry of Excitement

Meanwhile, our Paper Pregnancy is flying by!  We received a tremendous gift from our fabulous social worker the day after Christmas in the form of our completed home study.  A day later, we heard from our agency that they are beginning work on our family profile that will be shown to birth parents.  A couple days after that, we received information about beginning the process of our video profile (also to be shown to birth parents.)  For a few days it seemed like every time I opened my computer, there was another email waiting for me, propelling us closer and closer to meeting our Little One.  Right now we are waiting for our home study to be approved by our agency and to receive the draft of our profile.  My guess is that both of those things will be done within two weeks, and then we will be ACTIVE!  (ie. the “Second Trimester”)  Eric and I feel like we’re on a high speed roller coaster, our hands white-knuckled on the bar and our eyes bulging wide from the acceleration.  The crazy part is that at the end of this “ride,” the REAL adventure begins!  It is so very, very exciting.

Snapshot #4: Gammy, Gammy, Gammy

Eric’s mom (hereafter referred to as “Gammy”) arrived on the 26th.  It’s tough to focus on just one moment to share here.  I’ll give them rapidfire.  There was the moment where Abbi saw her in the airport, immediately waved, reached for her hand, and chirped, “Hi Gammy!”  There was the afternoon in Heidelberg, where we strolled along the Walkplatz, sharing a schneeballe, watching Abbi on Eric’s shoulders ahead of us.  There was the ride to Belgium and back, where we listened to Abbi belt out “whole world…in His hands” and “stand alone…Word of God…B-I-B-L-E, Bible!” and “joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart…and I’m so happy.”  There may be nothing sweeter than hearing my daughter sing about Jesus.  There was the meal we ate in Oostende, where we all ordered a different 3-course menu and shared amongst the three (or four) of us.  There was the day in Brugges, where we wandered around all day with our mouths hung open, shocked at the beautiful view that awaited us around each and every corner.  There was the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, Raylene and I leaning out the windows watching our German neighbors shooting off big-time fireworks in our street, while Eric was the responsible parent listening to see if Abbi was waking up due to the insane commotion.  (Miraculously, the answer was no!)  The visit was only a week, but we crammed in a whole lot of fun in a short period of time.

Snapshot #5: LIFE

And now the holidays are over.  The tree is down, the steady stream of presents from the post office has ceased, I have finally found the back of the refrigerator, and the pictures from December’s festivities have been edited, scrapbooked, and ordered.  We look back at 2011 with a tremendous gratitude for a truly spectacular year.  We probably will not be graced with another year in which we vacation once a month, visiting almost a dozen countries.  2011 was truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of a year.  And you know what?  We loved every single second of it!  We took thousands of pictures and ate incredible food and met interesting people and made a few mistakes and missed a few connections and had an absolute blast.  And 2012?  Well, we’re expecting great things!  We’re expecting to watch Abbi grow and change and develop, becoming more enchanting with each day.  We’re expecting Eric to put on Tech next month.  We’re expecting to learn where we’ll be going when we leave Germany next year.  And, of course, we’re expecting to meet the fourth member of our family.  We don’t know all the details yet, but we’re expecting great things!  After all, our God is the God of yesterday, today, and forever…and He takes our expectations and blows them out of the water!  This is going to be great!

Christmas Morning

Each moment was a treasure.

Welcome to Germany, Gammy!

Never too big to show a little love to your Mama.

Heidelberg Christmas Market

Oostende, Belgium at the North Sea

Brugges is called "Venice of the North"

'Lopping (shopping) with Daddy

Expecting great things in 2012!

We don’t call today “Gotcha Day,” like so many people do.  You “get” a cold.  You “get” a loaf of bread from the grocery.  You don’t “get” a daughter.  We don’t even call today “Adoption Day,” because it somehow misses the point.  If I absolutely had to pick a name, I think I might call today “Family Day.”  Today is a celebration of our family.  It’s not the day we became a family and it’s not the day Abbi became our daughter.  No, today is simply the day the law recognized what we had known all along- Abbi is our child, always has been, always will be.  Tonight we’ll eat some Cajun food as a way of celebrating where we were one year ago today, but before then is cookie time!

One of my favorite Christmas memories from childhood is making Christmas cookies.  Mom made the dough the day before and let it chill over night.  Justin and I always doubted that she had made enough, especially as we liked to snick bits here and there as we worked.  We rolled out the dough, cut our shapes, Mom carefully transferred them to the cookies sheet, the house filled with the smell of deliciousness, and soon we were meticulously icing and arranging sprinkles (Well, I was being meticulous at least.  Justin, not so much.)  By the end of the afternoon, we wondered why Mom had made so many and if we’d ever reach the end of the pile.  Dad arrived home from work and invariably asked if we had burned any for him.  Our Christmas cookies were precious and carefully guarded- we rationed them and savored them and looked forward to Cookie Day every year.

This year, I’m the mom.  I’ve been the mom for a couple years now, of course, but this is the first time we’ve been in our own house for Christmas and Abbi has been old enough to help.  I’ve been so looking forward to today and have promised my mom pictures galore.  However, here are things I didn’t count on:

1.)  My cookie cutters double as play-doh toys, so prior to making cookies I had to search the playroom (and various household cupboards and drawers) to find where Abbi had hidden all her treasures.

2.) If cutting one Christmas tree is fun, then cutting three is triple the fun.  To a 2 year old, overlapping the trees is no worries.  Translation: Some of our cookies are abstract at best.

3.) As soon as the first morsel of dough found its way to Abbi’s mouth, the ballgame changed pretty dramatically.  Her little eyes lit up and she proclaimed, “I like it!”  From that moment on, every spoon, cutter, and shape was on a one-way trip to her mouth.  My attempts to intercept only added to the fun of the game.

4.) Sometime between when I originally set the oven for 215* C (~425* F) and when I put in the first batch of cookies, Ab reset the oven for 100* C (~210*F).  While we waited for the oven to heat up again, I cleaned Abbi up and she got down to play.

5.) Apparently my rolling pin makes a great truck.  Before rolling out the second batch, I had to follow the trail of flour to find my rolling pin, adorned with very suspicious lick marks, stashed on top of the toy shelf.

6.) It is nearly impossible to take pictures of Cookie Day.  I’m covered in flour and my daughter can ingest an alarming quantity of cookie dough in the two seconds it takes me to snap a quick picture.  Out of curiosity, I revisited my childhood picture album.  Sure enough, the first picture I have of Cookie Day is when I was 8 and Justin was 4.  After seeing that, I feel pretty good about the 4 pictures I got from this morning.

Yes, this morning was nothing like how I envisioned it.  But here’s the thing. I was standing at the table, covered in flour, rescuing misshapen cookies, snatching dough before it reached the mouth, ready to be frustrated…and then I remembered.  I get to be the mom.  And I only get one chance at this.  Abbi won’t be two forever.  Someday I’ll have an impeccably clean kitchen with everything in its place.  All my cookie dough will end up on cookie sheets and my cookie angels will have both wings attached.  I’m so glad today is not that day.  Who cares if the kitchen is a wreck?  Who cares if our cookies look nothing like trees and bells and angels?  Who cares if Abbi ate more dough than she cut?  Who cares if the cutters were licked or the rolling pin took a drive across the carpet?  Today I made Christmas cookies with my daughter.  I am so grateful.  (After nap we’ll bust out the icing and the sprinkles.  I might wait till Eric gets home for that part.  Icing might require backup!)

Mommy's Little Helper

Notice that she's holding only half of a gingerbread man. See those cheeks? Suspiciously chunky.

As it so happens, I already had the research ready.  I recently completed my Master’s in Education from Penn State with a degree in Children’s Literature.  For my thesis, I chose to study how accurately adoption is portrayed in award-winning novels for teens.  As I reflected on this topic last night, I realized that while my research focused on books, stories are stories.  With that in mind, here are some snippets from my research (with the most important points in bold, in case you don’t have time to read it word for word) that might help you put words to your emotions:

_ _ _ _ _

There was a day when the word “family” would immediately conjure an image of father with a briefcase, mother in an apron, son clutching a football, and daughter cradling a doll.  That day is not today.  Today the word “family” encompasses a myriad of combinations.  According to Fisher (2003), “During the past several decades, research on the family has emphasized the great diversity of forms that families have taken—as American families have included much larger numbers of stepfamilies, single-parent families, and families headed by gay and lesbian partners than was the case 40 years ago; increasing numbers of these three kinds of families are also adoptive families” (p. 336).  It is to those adoptive families that we turn our attention.  According to the National Adoption Attitudes Survey of 2002, “nearly two thirds of the respondents (64%) had a personal experience with adoption, meaning that someone in their family or among their close friends had been adopted, had adopted a child, or had placed a child for adoption” (p. 335).  Adoption is all around us, but does it work for all members of the adoption triad: birth parents, adoptive parents, and child?

In 1996, a study was conducted on a group of 113 unmarried adolescent birth mothers.  The study revealed that two years after giving birth, the women who had placed their children for adoption were more educated, more likely to be employed, less likely to be on public assistance, and less likely to have borne another child than those women who had decided to parent their children (p. 341).  Adoption works for birth parents.  As for adoptive parents, the overwhelming consensus is that adoption creates “profound love that bonds family members across borders of difference” (Herman, 2002, p. 12).  Adoption works for adoptive parents.  As for the child, Kupfermann (2010) puts it succinctly when she writes, “adoptive children can live lives as satisfying as other children do” (p. 50).  Adoption works for kids.

Why, then, is adoption both underrepresented and misrepresented in our society?  Fisher (2003) reports that sociology texts average two to three pages devoted to adoption, and use those pages to “portray it as fraught with risks and hazards” (p. 336).  Popular media is even worse.  In newspapers, “negative outcomes of adoption were mentioned more than twice as often as positive ones” (p. 354).  There is a clear image that is being sent.  It is an image of “birth mothers as sluts, adoptees as damaged goods, adoptive parents as second best” (Eldridge, 1999, p. 21). The message is sinking in.  In a recent poll, “more than a third of the respondents believed that adopted children are more likely than their nonadopted peers to have drug and alcohol problems, medical problems, and problems at school” (Fisher, 2003, p. 344).  In a 1997 national survey, half of all respondents agreed that adoption was “not quite as good as having your own child” (p. 352).  It is no wonder, then, that “each year more than 1 million patients seek fertility treatment in the United States, compared with 60,000 adoptions of unrelated children that are finalized each year” (p. 355).  In the end, it seems that “the very acts…that make adoption exemplary also serve to delegitimate it.  Solidarities founded on social choices are construed as flimsy and superficial in comparison with fixed and unchosen natural givens.  This is curious in a liberal culture whose core values include individualism, freedom, and choice” (Herman, 2002, p. 12).

My focus on the importance of accuracy in the portrayal of adoptive teens and their families stems from my belief in the power of bibliotherapy.  According to Crago (2005), bibliotherapy can “provide a language in which a child or adult may begin to talk about what has previously been inchoate…provide the comfort of knowing that one is not alone” and “…can provide vicarious insight into one’s problems” (p. 187).  At its heart, bibliotherapy claims that children benefit from reading about children like themselves.  Within the children’s literature community, this belief is a given.  Rustin and Rustin (1987) write, “the fluidity of the boundary between the imaginary and the real in the lives of children…make children especially capable of being moved by stories which give form to the experience of their inner worlds” (p. 15). Within the adoption community, however, the importance of a child “seeing” himself in his books is amplified even further.  Gaskins (1999) cuts right to the heart of the matter when she writes,  “It’s good to see other people who are like you, it’s invaluable” (p. 195).  Part of what makes it so invaluable is that books “can open exploration of this topic [adoption] along new lines—making room for curiosity in adoptees, adoptive families, and those called on to assist them” (Pivnick, 2010, p. 3).  Quite simply, the right book can act as a “road guide” for children (p. 6) because “fantasy provides the child with a means of both deepening their understanding of, and experimenting with reality, working through feelings related to both positive and negative experiences, and gaining a sense of mastery that is inaccessible to them because of their tender years” (Rubin, 2005, p. 243-244).  According to Eldridge (1999), “the right tale can have a profoundly healing impact for years to come” and provides the opportunity to “meet your child on his own ‘turf’ and have a good chance of drawing out his secret feelings and beliefs about being adopted” (p. 76, 78).

The critical element, however, is accuracy.  Quite simply, a book that misrepresents the joys, struggles, and feelings of an adopted child is far worse than a book that doesn’t mention adoption at all.  Meek (1982) writes, “From the stories we hear as children we inherit the feeling mode, the truth value, the codes, the rhetoric, the transmission techniques that tell us who we are” (p.288).  The implications there are incredibly heavy.  If books help to “tell us who we are,” it is absolutely essential that they transmit truths.  Nakazawa (2003), an adoptive mother of two, writes, “If your child’s own experience is denied they will be forced to tell themselves:‘This must not be happening because no one else can see it happening, therefore I must not be experiencing- so I must be crazy.  Something must be wrong with me’” (p. 21).  The importance of accuracy can not be overstated.

_ _ _ _ _

Again, my research focused on books, but I feel that the main points seamlessly transmit to stories on TV as well.  The point is that adoption is everywhere, it works, and yet it is underrepresented or misrepresented in popular media.  It’s important for kids (and adults!) to see themselves in the stories that they read/view/hear because it helps them put words to their own stories.  If stories   communicate lies, they will have greater difficulty in processing their own reality.  This is exactly what “Glee” has done.  And, while this is supposed to be a research-based argument rather than emotional one, I can’t help but remember that at this very moment, somewhere out there is the woman carrying MY baby.  Oh, how I hope she doesn’t watch “Glee.”

Below are the references from the segments of my paper that I have shared with you:

Crago, H.  (2005).  Healing texts: Bibliotherapy and psychology.  In P. Hunt (Ed.), Understanding children’s literature (2nd ed.).  New York, NY: Routledge.

Eldridge, S.  (1999).  Twenty things adopted kids wish their adoptive parents knew.  New York, NY: Dell.

Fisher, A. P., (2003). Still “not quite as good as having your own”?: Toward a sociology of adoption.  Annual Review of Sociology, 29, 335-361.  Retrieved using Academic Search Complete.

Gaskins, P. F.  (1999). What are you?: voices of mixed-race young people.  New York, NY: Henry Holt.

Herman, E. (2002).  Child adoption in a therapeutic culture.  Society, 11-18.  Retrieved using Academic Search Complete.

Kupfermann, K. (2010).  Will you be my mommy?:A quest of a child to fill in the gaps in the process of bonding with her adoptive parents.  Psychoanalytic Inquiry, 30, 41-53.  Retrieved using         Academic  Search Complete.

Meek, M. (1982).  What counts as evidence in theories of children’s literature.  Theory Into Practice, 21, 284-292.

Nakazawa, D. J.  (2003).  Does anybody else look like me?: A parent’s guide to raising multiracial children.  Cambridge, MA: Lifelong Books.

Pivnick, B. A.  (2010).  Left without a word: Learning rhythms, rhymes, and reasons in adoption.  Psychoanalytic Inquiry, 30, 3-24.  Retrieved using Academic Search Complete.

Rubin, L. C. (2005). Superheroes and heroic journeys: Re-claiming loss in adoption.  In T. Duffey (Ed.),     Creative Interventions in Grief and Loss Therapy: When the Music Stops, a Dream Dies.  New York, NY: Haworth Press.

Rustin, M., & Rustin, M. (1987).  Introduction: Deep structures in modern children’s fiction.  In Narratives of     Love and Loss, 1-26. New York: Verso.

I don’t know how many of you watch the tv show “Glee.”  Eric and I have watched from the beginning, and while it’s not a perfect show, it’s entertaining.  After an episode we watched this weekend, however, I am done with it.  Adoption has been a minor storyline that they’ve blundered from the beginning- showing a pregnant teen making a last second, cavalier decision to place her baby for adoption; showing the adoptive mother signing ONE paper at the hospital and walking off with the baby; failing to follow up with counseling or appropriate grieving for the birth mother; failing to show ongoing contact between the adoptive mother and the birth mother, etc.  They haven’t done a great job with it, but honestly, TV generally gets it wrong.  I watched their treatment and I thought, “Eh, well, at least they’re trying.  At least it’s mostly positive.  It’s not accurate, but it’s not anything too terribly damaging.”

Then I watched the second episode of Season Three, however, and my opinion changed.  The adoptive mother, Shelby, and the baby, Beth, show back up in town.  Shelby approaches the birth parents and offers to let them be a part of Beth’s life.  She does a great job of explaining how important it will be for Beth, and how she doesn’t want Beth to have questions when she gets older.  So far, so good.  Quinn, the birth mother, responds with a scathing speech about how Shelby isn’t the mom and that she can “pretend” all she likes, but she’ll never be Beth’s mother.  And then I felt sick.  I rationalize, though, that maybe they are getting ready to make the point that Quinn didn’t get the help she needed in grieving and that they’ll show her moving to a more healthy emotional place.  Shelby responds with kindness and continues to reach out to Puck, the birth father.  Puck is respectful of Shelby’s role as Beth’s mother and, with Shelby’s blessing, begins to build a healthy, appropriate relationship with Beth.  Maybe they’re going to pull this off after all.  Then, in the final seconds of the episode, Quinn announces that she wants “her” baby back and that she’s going for full custody.  And now I’m ticked.

This is more than being a tinge off.  This is more than just glossing over facts for the purposes of TV.  This is a blatant and gross reinforcement of adoption misconceptions and stereotypes that are decades and decades outdated.  It is hurtful to every member of the adoption triad: adoptive parents, adoptees, and birth parents.  As it pertains to adoptive parents, the idea that a birth parent could come back to claim a child is completely false.  It is illegal.  Once a child is adopted, it is forever.  There is no going back.  Ever.  Period.  How many potential adoptive families might be scared off by this irresponsible portrayal of false information?  Secondly, think about how an adoptee might feel, watching this episode.  It would be terrifying to be told that your mom isn’t really your mom and that at any moment you might be ripped away from your family.  That’s devastating.  Finally, the show’s target demographic is teens, some of which may become unexpectedly pregnant.  As they consider their options, it’s terrifying that their first impression of adoption might be what they saw on “Glee.”  Adoption is NOT a decision to be made lightly.  It does NOT happen without a great deal of support and counseling, both before and after.  In almost every case there WILL be contact between the adoptive family and the birth family after the baby is born.  And, it is NOT a decision that is just for a little while.  There is no going back.  It’s forever.

Yes, I’m more aware of how adoption is portrayed in our culture since it is a part of our family.  I actually wrote my Master’s thesis on the topic and was pleased to see a positive trend toward more accurate portrayals.  And now, in one fell swoop, that’s been knocked out.  It’s frustrating that such a popular show that does other issues so well has failed so miserably when it comes to this topic.  Eric and I took to the Internet to find out whether we should stick with it and see if they righted the ship (we’re several episodes behind what’s currently airing) or stop watching immediately.  I read that episode seven involves the birth mother planting harmful objects in the adoptive mother’s apartment and calling Child Services on her, as well as Shelby and Puck (adoptive mom and teenage birth father) kissing.  I’m out.  Shame on you, “Glee.”  Shame on you.

But now?  Now we’re ready.  And so we’re off!  As of last Thursday, we are officially on the path to bringing home our next sweet miracle baby.  Those of you who have been keeping up with us for the last couple years may remember how this goes.  For those of you who have forgotten or who may be new to the adoption scene, here’s a refresher:

I call it my Paper Pregnancy.  Like a typical pregnancy, it has three trimesters.  During my first trimester, I’ll be a paperwork machine.  We’ll be updating our home study and getting new criminal clearances and getting new child abuse clearances and getting new FBI clearances and getting new medical clearances and updating our family profile and making a video profile and compiling letters of reference and financial data and…you get the idea.  It’s a lot of paperwork.   After all the paperwork is completed, we’ll enter our second trimester.  During the second trimester, we are considered “active” with our agency, which means that they’ll be showing our profile to birthmothers who fit our criteria.  Once we are matched with a birthmother, which could take a couple days or several months, we begin our third trimester.  The third trimester is simply the time in which we are getting to know the birthmother and waiting for our little one to be born.  Typically we’ll be matched with 4-6 weeks left before the due date, but it could be as little as a day or two, or even a baby that has already been born.  So when are we due?  No idea.  My best guess is sometime between April and June, but it could be a couple months sooner or later as well.

Much like my friends going through their second “traditional” pregnancy, I’m way more relaxed the second time around.  The first time I was stressed about the process, taking ultimate personal responsibility for every single detail, and battling feelings of failure if a piece of paper had to be resubmitted.  I stressed about the physical and emotional health of the birthmother, and agonized over the idea of getting someone to pick us.  I prayed fanatically, as that was the only way I could keep myself focused on the Truth of the situation- that God was going to bring the right baby home to us at the right time.  And then our sweet Abbi was born.  And now I get it.  This time I’m not stressed, and I’m not worried, and I’m praying, not out of desperation, but in confidence.  The truth is that our baby is out there and this is simply the process of how we meet.  The truth is that there is no power in heaven or on earth that can prevent our baby coming home to us at the proper time.  I’m not saying that the ride will be smooth.  Twists and turns are inevitable, and there may even be some U-turns along the way, but I have confidence in the end of this story.  I have confidence that some number of months from now I’ll be holding my baby, marveling over tiny fingers and toes, gazing in wonder at soft cheeks and kissable lips, reminding Big Sister Abbi to be gentle, finding room on my lap for them both, and thinking to myself, “How could I not have known?  What did we ever do without this baby?”  And besides, who has time to worry when you have a two year old to chase?!

The ironic part is that the November trip took the longest to plan.  We knew we were cruising to the Canary Islands, leaving from Malaga, Spain.  The tricky part was getting into and out of Malaga in a timely manner.  Long story short, it cost a fortune and we had to be flexible with our days.  One week before our trip I realized that I had made a mistake.  A big one.  I had scheduled our return flight for the day before our cruise arrived back in port.  Uh oh.  For the next couple days I scrambled, trying to salvage what was by now a very expensive non-refundable vacation.  When the dust settled, we were flying into Malaga a couple days ahead, cruising, spending another day in Malaga at the end, flying to northern Germany, and then taking the train back home.  It wasn’t the most direct route, but at least we got to go.  And then the vacation began.

It wasn’t that our trip was bad.  We actually had a really good time.  The thing is, our trip was very, very different than we anticipated.  We anticipated spending our days in Malaga on the beach, constantly reapplying sunscreen, soaking up rays, and chasing Abbi in and out of the water.  That’s not quite what happened.  While it was still warm, there was a bit of a nip in the air which kept us out of swimsuits and reaching for the one paltry jacket we each had brought along just in case.  We still had a great time- Abbi found a playground at the beach, Eric and I ate lots of paella, and we had our first mojito experience.  We enjoyed wandering about, getting a look at what Torremolinos (a smaller town a few miles outside Malaga) is like on the off-season.  I spoke lots of Spanish and relished the opportunity to not be the “stupid American” who can’t communicate.  We had a great time, it was just different.

The view from our hotel in Torremolinos- not bad for $60 a night!

Then our cruise began.  We had two days in port and two days at sea.  Our cruise took us to Tenerife and Lanzarote, two of the Canary Islands owned by Spain and located near the coast of Africa.  We expected to sweat our buns off, spending both days on a super tropical beach.  Again, that’s not quite what happened.  It was warm enough to don bathing suits, but chilly enough that we had goosebumps a good bit of the time.  Chilly enough that I kept wondering if I should put more clothes on Abbi, but warm enough for me to decide she was ok.  Warm enough to venture into the water a bit, but chilly enough to not stay long.  Warm enough to enjoy a couple hours at the beach, but chilly enough that a couple hours was plenty.  Also, the islands weren’t tropical.  Lanzarote, in particular, was strikingly barren.  Black volcanic ash made up the entire landscape, except right by the shore, where some palm trees popped up.  We actually found it to be so ugly that it was beautiful.  Not bad, but different.

Tenerife, Canary Islands

We spent a little time in the water...

but most of the time on the playground.

Lanzarote, Canary Islands

Our beach beauty...

is Daddy's precious girl!

See what I mean? So ugly that it's beautiful.

And then there was our time on the ship.  We’re pretty much cruise experts by now.  When we get on a ship, even with Abbi, we fall into a comfortable rhythm of meals and napping and (most of all) time at the pool.  It’s what we do.  That’s not exactly what happened this time.  First, it was chilly.  I thought that maybe the fact that we were so far south would counteract the fact that it was November, but no.  It was chilly.  It was windy.  It was NOT pool weather.  Second, it was rough, rough, rough.  Eric and I have now spent roughly 30 days on a cruise ship and never, ever, not even once have we had even a tinge of anything resembling seasickness.  We thought we were immune.  False.  One of our days at sea was spent on our backs in bed.  All day.  And we weren’t alone.  Again, after approximately a month on cruise ships I can safely say that I have never seen such a deserted ship.  The corridors were silent, the lounges were deserted, and the few people who were in the dining rooms were subdued and glassy-eyed.  We felt fine during our second day at sea, but it turns out that without the option of going to the pool, there really is nothing on a cruise ship for a two year old to do.  We tried the art auction and lasted 20 minutes (thankfully we left without our daughter inadvertently buying us some expensive new wall hangings), but spent the majority of the day playing cars in our stateroom.  We had a good time, any time together is fun, but it was definitely different.  Also, just as a fun bit of trivia, we were cruising on the Adventure of the Seas- the same ship we cruised on our honeymoon.  Our experience this time was somewhat different than five years ago- funny how a two year old will change things.

After one more day in Torremolinos/Malaga, wherein we ate more paella, drank more sangria, found another beach playground, and discovered that the season really ends the first week of November, we headed back to Germany on a three hour flight.  Fun fact for you.  Should you ever fly Ryan Air into Dusseldorf, Germany, please be advised that despite the fact that you’ll find nothing online or on your tickets to indicate otherwise, the airport you fly into is actually not in Dusseldorf.  In fact, it’s about an hour away.  There is an airport in Dusseldorf, it’s just not the one you’ll be flying into.  So, for example, if you arranged train tickets from Dusseldorf Airport to, say, Bruchmulbach, for example, you’ve got a problem.  Long story short, we caught a bus to a train and rode for an hour and a half to catch up with our original train itinerary.  We arrived home a mere nine hours later (Google maps tells me we could have driven it in about three), tired, but safe.  Was it a good trip?  Well, yes.  Was it what we expected?  Negative.  Are we done with travel for a bit?  You know, I thought so.  I thought this trip was it, but now there is a possibility for a trip in December and another possibility for January.  It turns out that travel is a tough habit to break.

The Joy of Fingerpaint

October also means pumpkin time around here.  As you may know, I’m not huge on the Halloween thing, but with Abbi’s birthday being October 25th, I’ve had to revise my attitude toward Halloween-ish activities.  Pumpkins are something with which I can get on board.  Going to the pumpkin patch is becoming one of our favorite fall traditions.  Abbi talked all week about going to see the “punkins.”  At the local farm, they also had cows, horses, pigs, and chickens that we could visit.  Abbi is super into animals and the sounds that they make right now, so she absolutely loved seeing them up close and in person.

October is Pumpkin Time!

Abbi has also become quite the kitchen helper this month.  I’ve started making treats for Eric’s office every Wednesday, so Tuesday evening is when Abbi and I bake.  She pulls up the stool that stood in my Grandma Wilson’s kitchen for so many years, I measure out the ingredients, and she dumps them into the bowl.  She calls it “dumpy.”  Se also enjoys shaking the cinnamon and salt into the bowl- “shake shake.”  Of course, the best part of baking is tasting, and Abbi shows a natural talent for this.  Somehow she has figured out in just a couple weeks what Justin and I never did in our entire childhoods- when Mom hands you a beater, dip it back into the bowl quickly to get a refill.  Why did we never think of this?!  Brilliant!  Baking with Abbi is an adventure, but I can almost feel my Grandma West smiling down on me as I introduce her great-great granddaughter to the joy of cooking.

Mama's Helper

And then there is Abbi’s birthday.  We got back from Paris just in time for Abbi’s birthday, and we hopefully have another trip coming up in a couple days.  There was no time to arrange a party, and Eric and I feel like big parties at this age tend to be a lot overwhelming anyway.  Instead, we have been enjoying Abbi’s birthday over a week or so.  Every couple days, Abbi opens a gift from one of her grandparents or cousins.  That way, each gift gets to be special on its own, and Abbi has the fun of opening presents over and over.  We saved her gift from Eric and I for the actual birthday.  Even that, though, was spread out for maximum fun.  Eric brought home balloons (also becoming a tradition, it would seem) and we had tons of fun playing with those and dancing to the birthday song that they sing.  Then, I pulled out Abbi’s favorite dish for dinner- crock pot macaroni and cheese.  After three bowls of “noo noos,” we moved onto the present.  Since Abbi is so into fixing things and figuring them out, we figured our girl needed a tool bench where she could exercise all her left-brain potential.  And we were right- she loves, loves, loves it!  Finally, it was cake time.  Abbi perfectly summarized her birthday as she ran around all day exclaiming, “Happy two!”  She is, indeed, a very, very happy two.

Our Happy Two

2 hours on the train = extensive snacking and coloring

THIS is how we got there in just 2 hours!

The Eiffel Tower during the day...

...then at dusk, all sparkly

...then aglow at night.

The next day we headed over to the Louvre.  We had no idea how long we’d actually be able to stay (toddlers and museums aren’t a great mix), but Abbi actually did an incredible job.  Two things about the Louvre: 1.) it’s MASSIVE.  As in, super massive.  As in, by the time you walk back far enough to get the whole building in a frame, the picture is garbage anyway.  2.)  It is a maze.  Now, when you look at a map, it doesn’t look that complicated.  There are three or four levels and it’s in the shape of a U.  What could be tricky about that?  Stairs.  Lots and lots of stairs.  It goes like this:  walk a bit, 7 steps down, walk a bit, 20 steps up, walk a bit more, 10 steps up, turn a corner, 15 steps down.  It’s tough to tell what floor you’re on when there are steps EVERYWHERE.  It literally took us about a half hour to find our way out of the museum- and that was with attempting to follow signs and asking the occasional worker.  After leaving the Louvre, we walked down the Champs Elysees, passing all the super froo-froo designer shops till we reached the Arc de Triomphe.  We had a bit of time left in our day, but it was pretty much absorbed by letting Abbi walk back to the metro station on her own.  She burned a lot of energy…and a LOT of time.  For dinner we headed over to the Notre Dame Cathedral where there is a pedestrian area full of restaurants upon restaurants.  Yummy!

Getting our fill of culture at the Louvre

Eric's solution to the 14 million steps at the Louvre- better him than me!

Our last day was spent at the Palace of Versailles.  At first we thought our day might be a dud as Versailles is closed on Mondays.  However, while the palace may be closed, the GARDENS are not!  We spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon wandering about the gardens.  It was so lovely and, at least for me, was the best part of the trip!  Afterwards, we attempted to go see a chocolate exhibition, but by that time it was getting close to time for us to catch our train.  We grabbed one more dinner by Notre Dame and then headed to the station.  Our trip home was not nearly as smooth as might be expected.  The ICE train was 3 minutes late getting into Saarbrucken, which, when you only have 6 minutes total to make your connection, is not good.  Add that to the fact that our platform number wasn’t printed on our tickets, our platform was on the other side of the station, and the train number was different than what it was supposed to be and yes, we missed our train.  We had to wait an hour for the next one, which then had some mechanical problems.  Long story short, we arrived home at 11pm.  Our reflections on Paris?  The people were nicer than we expected.  The city was cleaner than we had been told.  The food was excellent, albeit expensive.  We got great pictures.  We saw the sights.  Paris?  Check!

Looking out at the gardens from the Palace of Versailles

From the gardens, looking back at the palace.

What a fine way to spend a beautiful afternoon!

The Carnival Magic

water park

playtime with Daddy

Behind that splash is Eric and Abbi

deep in discussion

Whee!

ropes course

It was awesome to be on a ropes course 12 stories off the surface of the ocean!

a natural at putt-putt

Abbi takes on her Daddy in fooseball.

Our first port was the Monte Carlo, Monaco.  (As a fun fact, Monaco is the second smallest country in the world.  The entire country is contained in the one city.  Monte Carlo IS Monaco and Monaco IS Monte Carlo.  So there you go.)  Residents of Monaco pay no taxes, which has made it a haven for some of the richest people in the world.  The marina was full of absolutely jaw-droppingly huge yachts, and we were told that a 400 sq. ft. apartment would be quickly scooped up for a bargain price of a couple million dollars.  Wow.  While there we walked to the Casino from the James Bond films, and Eric pointed out the ridiculously expensive cars that were a dime a dozen on the streets of Monaco.

Welcome to Monaco!

The Monte Carlo Casino

The next day was Marseilles, France.  Honestly, Eric and I didn’t get off the ship that day.  We had a lazy morning with Abbi, and by the time we were getting ready to leave the ship, it was getting close to naptime.  We knew that the next day was Rome, and that we were going to be asking a lot of our little one, so we wanted her to be as rested as she could be.  Mom and Dad went ashore, though, and reported back that we probably made the right decision.  There was beauty there, they said, but you had to look a bit harder to find it.  For me, I got the best of both worlds- lovely pictures of Marselles AND a well-rested baby!  On our way out of port we passed the Chateau d’If, the famous prison/fortress from the Count of Monte Cristo.

Chateau d'If

Then came Rome, Italy.  Rome was actually about an hour and a half from our port, so we signed up for a charter bus to drop us off and pick us up, giving us 7 hours to explore Rome on our own.  10 hours, ladies and gentlemen.  10 hours…in the heat…walking around…with a toddler…in a stroller…with no nap.  And you know what?  She was FANTASTIC!  We walked to Vatican City first thing (Another fun fact- Remember how I said Monaco was the second smallest country in the world?  Vatican City is the first.) and I was worried.  It was hot, hot, hot, and Abbi wanted nothing to do with her stroller.  We were stopping every few feet for snacks or drinks that she’d promptly throw to the ground.  I was thinking, “Oh no.  This is going to be miserable.”  Once we got inside the Vatican, though, she perked right up and then was happy and ready to go for the rest of the day.  Maybe somebody blessed her in there without us knowing it!  We left the Vatican and rode the subway to the Coliseum, and then worked our way back, passing the Roman Forum, the Pantheon, and the Trevi Fountain.  We then had to speed-walk back to the bus in order to just barely make it on time.  If we would have had just a couple more hours, I think we could have seen it all.  It was a great day, but, whew!, were we tired by the end of it!

The Vatican

The Coliseum

a sobering reminder that NO empire is too big to fall

dinner at the Pantheon

On such a hot day, we made good use of the public fountains!

Next was Pisa, Italy.  Before we left I had been told, “Eh, don’t bother with the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  You see it.  It leans.  You’re done.  It’s not really worth it.”  I’m so glad we didn’t listen.  It was so cool!  Yes, the tower leans, but until you see it, you don’t really get it.  It REALLY leans.  It leans so much that it really is remarkable that it hasn’t fallen over yet.  It leans so much that I was happy to pass on the opportunity to walk to the top.  Yes, it’s just a leaning tower, but it really is something to see.  After taking the classic tourist pictures we headed off to the beach.  You know how we feel about the beach.  Any day at the beach is a good day by us.

The classic tourist picture

I didn't realize how beautiful the tower actually was till I saw it in person.

Any day at the beach is a fine day by me!

Pesto and pizza for lunch? Yes, please!

Abbi required her OWN Italian gelato...or else she ate all of ours!

Our next port was Dubrovnik, Croatia.  Honestly, this port was a big part of why we booked this cruise.  We’ve had a ton of people over here tell us, “You have to go to Croatia.  It’s gorgeous!  You’ll love it!” but we didn’t really know what that meant.  Here’s what it means:  We’re so glad we went to Croatia.  It’s gorgeous!  We loved it!  Mom and Dad took Abbi to the beach, and Eric and I spent the day wandering around old town Dubrovnik by ourselves.  Mom and Dad loved their alone time with Abbi, and Eric and I loved having a little “honeymoon afternoon” where we were reminded how much fun we have, just the two of us!  The people in Dubrovnik were really friendly, and the city was simply gorgeous.  We’re hoping to return to Croatia one more time before we leave Europe, because one day was simply not enough for us.

Abbi went with Mom and Dad to the beach

The tiny bird enthusiast LOVED this!

Eric and I enjoying "baby free" time for an afternoon.

Dubrovnik was BEAUTIFUL.

Each orange roof is a building that was damaged during the Serbian War. Super sobering.

And then there was Venice, Italy.  What can I say about Venice?  It’s such a lovely city…I’m not even sure how to describe it!  I knew that it was a city made up of small islands, with canals instead of streets, but I didn’t really know how to envision that.  I think I’ll let my pictures do the work, instead of my faulty words.  Eric, Dad, Abbi, and I headed out the first day for a scouting trip.  We figured out the public transportation (boats as public buses) and wandered around the twisty roads of Venice saying, “Oooh, look at this!  Ahh, look how pretty!” all day.  We stopped at a lovely cafe for a caprese salad snack which was nothing less than an celebration of fresh deliciousness with every bite.  So good…so expensive!, but so good.  The next day Mom came with us and we visited Murano, the island that houses all the glass-blowing factories of Venice.  Honestly, Eric and I went along with it just because Mom wanted to do it, but it ended up being incredibly, incredibly cool!  If we ever find a money tree, we’re replacing all our glassware with Venetian glass.  It was gorgeous.  We ended our time in Venice with a gondola ride.  Yes, it is a must do tourist activity.  If you have the opportunity to see Venice someday, do it.  It was wonderful.

public transportation in Venice

I have a TON of pictures like this of Venice. Everywhere we looked was just so lovely!

Venice is a fine place to meander aimlessly.

the cafe where we had a snack

at the glass blowing factory in Murano

Ride a gondola in Venice? Check!

overlooking Venice

one last Venice shot for the road, er, canal

Our last port was Messina, Sicily.  In the spirit of total honesty, Messina was my least favorite port.  We found a beach, but we also figured out why the beach trips sponsored by the cruise line were about half an hour away.  The beach in Messina was absolutely strewn with litter!  We found a relatively clean place to hang out and swim.  When the tide changed, though, the trash that we had been avoiding came floating right up.  I’m not going to tell you what floated by me in the water, but I will say this- it was the end of our beach day.  It didn’t stop us from getting some good pictures, though!

finding the best of Messina

two beach girls

Our cruise concluded in Barcelona, Spain.  We had visited Barcelona before (on our cruise in June, remember?) but it was Mom and Dad’s first visit.  We took Abbi to the Barcelona Zoo where we saw a dolphin show.  (Side note: Abbi has now been to zoos in FOUR countries.  We’re becoming something of zoo experts.)  Barcelona was one of the nicest zoos we’ve seen (I think Columbus is still in first place overall, though.)  We then took another stroll down Las Ramblas, where we introduced Mom and Dad to tapas and paella.

soaking up quality time with Grandma and Grandpa

very cool dolphin show

checking out the giraffes

Instead of taking her in and out of the stroller, Eric found an easier way. Just LIFT.

Once again, Las Ramblas wore Abbi out!

Final thoughts?  Man, we’re having a good time during our season of travel!  We realize that this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, and we’re having a great time trying to make the most of it!  I may have to go back and consolidate some early pages of our 2011 photo book in order to make it to the end of the year, but man!, is that going to be a good looking scrapbook!