Well, I ended up watching the documentary on childhood cancer families. The first half, anyway.
And you know what:
No tears. In fact, I was bored. Actually, I didn’t feel much emotion at all, other than some sadness for what those families were going through. In a way, my own experience seemed somewhat remote to me and I really did not associate my childhood cancer “ordeal” with the situations shown.
Thank God in more ways than one…
Said yes to having our profile shown on Friday morning to a couple thinking about placing a baby girl due July 26. Situation sounds very much like Widget’s except expectant dad is involved….
We don’t have any of the money together yet.
The Lord will provide, right?
I do have one family resource we can ask and if this comes to pass, I will have to.
Plus the fund that gave me the prescription copay money said they could probably do adoption expenses, although that money wouldn’t be available until February.
Prayer would be good…
Well, my ibook’s power cord has given up the ghost. Apple’s ibook power cord for the G3 and G4 versions is a poor design given to cracking of the rubber coating around where the head meets the cord. This is the 3rd cord I’ve had in 3 years that has done this very thing. I let this cord go so long that the wiring is now fully exposed (I have electrical tape around it) and today it will no longer indicate that it is charging the battery. I decided to try a knock-off brand recommended by other ibook users on Apple’s discussion forums, which is apparently studier and half the price. I should get it by Thursday according to the place when I ordered it. I only have 35% charge right now.
I hope that is the only issue, as most of the users also indicated that their internal power drive has needed to be replaced when it will no longer charge, even if they replaced the power cord.
I am hankering for the new MacBook in black or the pro version but someone will have to bless me with a windfall to get it right now.
I will never rely solely on a PC/Windows product, particularly XP. T just loaded XP onto his work laptop (currently their programming runs on WIndows 2000 but the new verison will need XP to program). His laptop got 52 viruses and over 2000 occurrences of spyware in about 4 hours, despite not being logged in. It woke us up at 3 AM with some loud-ass ad proclaiming that we had won a plasma tv and an ipod. And yes, he did have active virus protection running when this happened.
I love my Mac.
Pangs of longing
Dreams that will never come true
Wishful thinking that our next child would be a product of the two of us
Realizing that although pregnancy is full of aches, nausea, tiredness, swelling, excrutiating pain in the end, there is new life amidst the changes
Knowing what it means to see our child for the first time on an ultrasound
Feeling that first movement and subsequent kicks, stretches, hiccups
Being able to choose our doctor, make the health/hospital/birth decisions
Having a hospital experience that is ours and ours alone
No fears of changed minds
No guilt of taking someone else’s child away
No bittersweet reality of adoption and its intermixing of loss and joy
******
I don’t mean this in any sense of wishing Widget was anything but herself or that I view adoption as a second choice, a lesser choice. She is my joy, my world.
Every now and then, the sense of loss I feel regarding my infertility pokes its head out. Why now? Probably because of Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, our anniversary along with the fact this was the time of the year we did our IVF treatments.
Fortunately, it no longer overwhelms me.
Just twinges of grief
Widget and I stopped at the store to pick up a few groceries on our way home (me from work, she played at MK’s). Since she is on an antibiotic for her rash, I picked up some more yogurt for her to help with the yucky diapers she has been having.
Now, I’ll admit when I’m grocery shopping, I don’t pay as much attention to her as I probably should since she is strapped in a cart. I stopped and picked up a couple of boxes of cereal, got back to the cart and she had managed to wiggle herself around in the cart to reach the yogurt containers and was holding one on her lap. Shortly thereafter, I noticed she was licking her finger and I discovered that she had managed to peel back the foil cover enough to dip her finger in the yogurt. At this point, I was almost done and I knew she would pitch a fit if I took it away, so I let her keep it.
As usual, the checkout process took much more time than I thought it would.
By the time I got all the groceries out of the cart, she was in the process of dipping several fingers into the yogurt container.
By the time we got back to the car, the 6 oz container was empty and all over her, the cart, her “B” (blankie). She, of course, was happy as a clam and I couldn’t help but laugh at the mess she made. I wish I had my camera with me to capture the glee on her face at her “accomplishment” 
In honor of Father’s Day 
Widget and her daddy
May God bless all the men in my life who are fathers.
May He continue to give you strength, compassion, love, kindness, wisdom and guidance in your lives.
I learned today that some friends of my younger sister, MK are planning to adopt from Guatemala. I sort of know them in that the husband was MK’s husband’s best man.
Anyway, the point of this post is one of the ways they are going about trying to get money together to pay for it. These friends have a karoke business on the side. MK got an invitation for the two of them to attend a karoke party being thrown by the couple. They are charging a cover charge and the money goes towards their adoption fund.
Here’s what I don’t like about it: it seems a bit selfish to throw your own party and ask people for money towards YOUR adoption expenses.
I don’t have a problem if you ask for money towards an adoption fund in lieu of gifts for birthdays, holidays. We did that. Heck, I’m all for it if someone offers to throw you a party, dinner, fundraiser, whatever or if you have a garage sale or sell other things you make, etc. and mention you are adopting and that the money you make will go towards it. Donations from others, applying for grants and loans, or even if you have a job where you get tips, making the point of saying the tips are going towards your adoption fund all seem fine to me.
I know adoption is expensive and based on MK’s comments, I think they, like us, don’t have a lot of disposable income to save. We ended up charging Widget’s final fees on our credit cards- not the best plan and not something we will do next time.
But charging a cover for your own party. Not so cool.
I just finished reading for the second time a novel called Glittering Images by Susan Howatch. It is the first in her series of fictional books about the Church of England starting in the late 1930s. Each book centers around a particular clergyman, a different one each time but the main character of the next book makes his appearance in the previous one, so there is this sense of continuity as you read the series.
This isn’t going to be a book review other than saying I really like this book and her others (I’ve read them all, sequentially of course ) and I would recommend them to anyone male or female to read.
Why am I even talking about the book then?
Because of something she writes.
In crisis, the main character ends up at the monastery where his spiritual director is (a new one, at that, since his previous one had died). In a conversation after he has let out some of the background as to why he is there, he says:
“I must be mad because I can’t stop crying and men never cry unless they are off their heads.”
“That’s a very powerful myth in our culture and a myth which can produce extremely unhealthy results. Which is better: to express grief and pain by using tear-ducts specially created for the purpose or to express grief and pain by enduring a silent secret haemorrhage of the soul?”
I said as the tears began to fall: “I feel so overwhelmed by the memory of all my unfitness.”
“Very well, perhaps so far you haven’t served God as well as you might have done. Perhaps you’ve even longed to put matters right-”
“I have, yes-oh, indeed I have, I’ve prayed and prayed for help but-”
“Then your prayers are being ansered, aren’t they?”
I stared at him. “Answered?” I looked around the room. I was barely able to speak. “I’ve broken down so utterly that I am unable to continue as a clergyman, and you say this is God answering my prayers?”
“Of course. Do you think God’s been unaware of your difficulties and the suffering you must inevitably have endured? And do you think He’s incapable of reaching out at last to bring you face to face with your troubles so that you can surmount them and go on to serve Him far better than you ever served Him in the past?”
I understood but was unable to tell him so, and as I covered my face with my hands I heard him say: “God hasn’t sent this ordeal to destroy you, Charles. He’s come to your rescue at last, and here in this village, here in this house, here in this room where you’ve hit rock-bottom, here’s where your new life finally begins.”
I think I finally get it.
All of this I’ve been going through in the last few years was not because God had forsaken me but that He wanted me to find Him and start my life anew with Him rather than without Him.
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