But buried.

I grew up in a traditional Brooklyn Jewish family — lots of fun family cultural dinners, very loud people, lots of yelling, lots of laughs too. A fun hobby of some of my relatives at various family functions was always talking about who looked like who — who had whose eyes, hair color, personality, skin tone. At that early age, no one that I knew of had ever adopted a child. Growing up, no one that I knew was adopted. And yet.

It was something that sort of became a pipe dream for me. There were a lot of variables that I thought about. My husband and I wanted three children — so I would say to myself, if we have three kids and a home and the finances to afford a fourth child, then I would love to do this huge mitzvah of taking in another child into my home. My husband was never on board with the idea of adoption being part of our own lives, but he too loved the idea in theory.

I took a class in the Spring of 2006 called You, Inc. It tied in perfectly with me having just found out about The Secret and the premise of holding a thought in your head, putting it out there into the “universe” at large … and ultimately making it happen.

In this class we had an assignment called “If I can see it, I can believe it.” On this page in our scrapbooks, we were to cut out photos of ideas, things, aspects of our lives we absolutely wanted to come true. On these pages was the watch I want, some vases, a mirror. The following page had a photo of a couple in love (so that my husband and I would always remain best friends), Diane Keaton because I love how gracefully she’s aged, Oprah and her “girls” because I love the amazing work she does for children and literacy, a cut out of my face with Demi Moore’s body because one day I’ll value that commitment more than my Dunkin Hines Chewy Fudge Brownies. The last photo that I cut out and carefully pasted into my book was a photo that has been in my head for about 7 months now. Angelina Jolie with her son, Pax.

I flip open the pages of this book often. How else to guide me and remind me to live a life of all that I hold dear — in both tangible and far deeper ways. “If I can see it, I can believe it.” My watch has been selected, vases have been purchased. Facial creams are slathered on daily, healthy greek yogurt is part of my morning ritual. Family time is carved out of very busy weeks. Medications are taken, therapies are administered. The next indicated step is always taken. Family is my priority above all else. Books are read and businesses are begun. Things are happening … I’m making them happen. And the photo of Angelina Jolie — once a symbol of a pipe dream, the ‘if onlys’, the ‘wouldn’t it be nice?’, has actually become a decision that deserves to be made — in other words, a TRUE POSSIBILITY. The reality of this prize is an amazing life we can give to someone and the joy of some little child who can add to ours.

It has been 6 months of research now. Agencies called, blogs researched and devoured and friendships made across miles with people whose shoes I’m considering walking in. And a preliminary decision made based on lots of research and many factors that made sense to us that, should we decide to proceed, perhaps it is Kazakhstan in Central Asia (nestled between Russia and China) that might hold our future. I have a husband who is yet to be fully convinced this is a path for us, but yet who, G-d bless him, grows more willing each day to consider expanding our family in such a unique way. Two loving and special daughters who smile at the idea of a baby brother are a great factor in this family equation.

And yet. A fear. A fear of the unknown, the ‘what ifs’, the ‘should I’s’ and ‘will we reallys?’ Holy s–t! Will we REALLY? A wonder of whether we should expand our family through a pregnancy of my own or take the road not taken. Will there be a regret either way. Or not. This is it, this is our life. Whatever we choose, this is it. A huge question of who is the child we were meant to have. In what manner should we pursue our journey to 5. And are we okay to be a family of four. YES! YES we are. I lov emy family. I am decidedly content now but willing to take risks to have the larger family I always envisioned we’d have down the road when we’re old and gray. Amazingly, thankfully, finances in order and having healthy bodies and minds, we have the ability to choose the manner in which we make this happen. Should we decide to at all. What to do? Crystal ball, anyone?

The notion of saving a life, of kissing and holding him/her, of tucking in a small child who never had such simple luxuries, of loving a child like my own, S/He IS MY OWN, of providing this great country that is America, of offering an education, of showering our child with love and life lessons and two great big sisters, of offering guidance and intervention and resources previously unimaginable and two loving parents and a home and warmth. A simple and serendipitious chance to be part of our crazy, wacky, loving, warm, adventurous life.

Or the continuation of our own blood line? Another child who looks like my two beautiful girls, who shares my creativity and love of words, who is an entrepreneur like their dad. Is this overrated? What does “There is nothing like your own” really mean? A family is what you make of it. My friends are my family too.

Will we or won’t we?

The information gathering continues and the soul searching endures …

And now, glad to have this out and in the open of this unique blog space, I can let my thoughts relax for now knowing that the fact that I even had the nerve to begin this blog must mean something.

Till next time!

Thanks for reading my first blog entry. Wow. I did it.

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I watched Randy Pausch on Diane Sawyer last night. A man who is dying but whose lesson to us all is on how to live. Check out his “Last Lecture” on youtube if you haven’t seen it already. It is inspiring.

Today, we began the process of clearing out the internal memory on our digital video recorder so we can begin recording again. I just put in new batteries in my audio recorder so I can begin interviewing my children again. (If you haven’t done this with your kids, try it. Even to get their cries, their babble, and then first words. They love hearing it play back and years later, to hear the progression … it’s pretty remarkable.)

Why my sudden sense of nostalgia, my desire to capture this and hold on tight? Part of this process? Or part of my own personal process? (Or simply PMS?? Hey, who knows!)

Left message for one homestudy social worker and wound up speaking for 40 minutes to one who happened to answer right away. She is originally from Brooklyn, we shared that same Brooklyn vibe. An adoptive parent herself to 4 children (now 14, 16, 17 and 21) she has a lot of experience with the process. I looked over the requirements. Lots to think about, answer, write. But many of the documents seem doable in a more timely manner, so I can actually feel like I will have made some headway soon.

I have been thinking lately — When am I officially “on the bus?” Is there a piece of paperwork, an application, or a time during this process (perhaps when the dossier is complete?) that you feel “official” or is being official when your heart says it is.

To have the next steps in my hands feels very good I have to say. My eyes tear up sometimes thinking about it. My friend Jen asked if it was because I feel a dream coming true very soon. It feels so much more complicated than that. I think my tears have a multitude of meaning — the enormity of what we are about to do, the thoughts of the children waiting, has a child been born who waits for us, the fear of the unknown, the worry over reactions of important people in our lives, the knowledge that this is a lifelong journey, not just 8 weeks to Central Asia. And yes, maybe there are some tears because a dream might soon be coming true. Tears that I have the moxie, the courage, the “chutzpah”, to follow the direction in which my heart is being led.

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