But, alas, I am here and no dates to travel yet at all. Likely 2010. I will not unpack just yet, but it’s time to move my bags away from the front door and up to the attic. I can not keep looking at them. It’s time to at least take out my favorite jeans. It’s time to take my airplane snacks out of my carry on bags and eat them.

It’s time to stop saying “I’m not supposed to be here, this is like bonus time!” because the truth is, this *is* exactly where I am supposed to be now. This is not a “pretend” life — these days are real and they count. I wasn’t supposed to attend a few upcoming weekend activities with the kids, but now I will be able to. I wasn’t supposed to be here for Thanksgiving — we were supposed to have a “second” Thanksgiving at my parents house when I returned. But now, I will be here and there will be no need for a duplicate. I wasn’t supposed to see my friends’ baby until she was over a month old, but now I will see her as a newborn. I wasn’t supposed to be going to see Billy Elliott with my mom on Wednesday, but now I am. I wasn’t supposed to be here in my house tonight watching TV with my parents. I wasn’t supposed to be having a family day tomorrow visiting Gary’s family. I wasn’t supposed to be here to see the completion of the brick work in front of my house. I wasn’t supposed to have a guitar lesson this Tuesday which I am going to call to schedule, because HERE I AM and likely will be for weeks.

I am happy to be here to experience and do these things. The shock is wearing off and my days go on as usual. I am actually enjoying my children very much this week feeling as if, after all my running around in high speed mode, time opened up for me and the time I have been spending with them is more relaxed and slow and organized and routine. But at the same time, I am deflated. Not depressed, not sad, but just …. pfffftt (imagine sound a blown up balloon makes when you let go and it flies around the room.)

Some friends and family emailed or called and asked me how I was doing a few days after the news and the shock of not getting on the plane wore off. I appreciate the compassion because you know what, this is a huge disappointment, one that likely I brushed off too quickly, trying to be all “flipping it around.” I can honestly say I am handling it extremely well and generally *do* have a great attitude because I know this just wasn’t the time to go, there are reasons beyond my knowledge and understanding and one day I will know why we were delayed. But yet I do feel a little out of sorts. The quicker we get there, the quicker we become a family to a little boy, the quicker our family finds its missing piece, the quicker my girls get to see the face of the brother they tell me they already love.

I’ve never been so close to anything before — the proverbial precipice was a plane ride away, and then to have something, the idea of something, the journey, a child, pulled away from you with no definite timeline set forth. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. It’s absolutely unequivocally par for the course, and totally expected in the adoption world. But yet, I am still just a girl wanting to finally hold my baby.

Soon soon soon dear boy …. twisted red threads and all, we’re coming for you soon.

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