Getting More Adorable...One Week and Counting

Dearest Samantha,

Today, you are one week old. At this time last week, your daddy and I were sitting in a Madera Denny's, eating our eggs and pancakes and envisioning what life would be like with a child in our lives. Fifteen hours later...you answered our questions. In a word, being parents is AWESOME. Truly, I am in awe of you. I could stare and memorize your face for hours.

You are one of the most relaxed, content and ALERT babies I've ever met. From morning until evening, you're content just sleeping or staring into my eyes. You were so alert that I was finally got some good pictures of you the other day:




But here's my question, Sammie. Why the mood change during the 2-4AM? What happens during that time to make you fussy? If it's daddy's breath, I swear I'll make him keep mints by his bedside.


Crying aside, I'm not the only Mommy in the house. Roxy is mommy #2. She can't get enough of you, and must be lying or sitting by your crib allthetime. If you do fuss during the day (which is very rare), she whimpers and gives me this imploring look, as if she's saying "Um, hello? Woman--take care of this precious baby because I don't have opposable thumbs to do it myself." The other day, I walked into the bedroom to find this sight:

She didn't want to be in your crib; she just wanted to know you were OKAY. For safety's sake, though, we'll be shutting our bedroom door during naptime.

We officially introduced you to my students today at the 8th Annual Hammy Awards, held at John's Incredible Pizza. They were sooo excited to meet you, but I was sooo nervous to introduce you to all of my students at such a germ-infested place. I didn't want you to spend the whole evening getting over stimulated and over-germed, so we settled on a compromise and had Aunt Beth watch you for the evening, bringing you in for a brief visit with all of my students.

For the first time in YEARS, they were all quiet as I introduced you to them and told them all about how you came into our lives. This is no easy feat, Sammie, to quiet drama students!

Before you said goodbye, we got a few pictures:

With all of the students. Bummer that it's blurry because that would've been a great shot!

Here you are the day after the party in the Spam onesie you wore to match the seniors and mommy & daddy:

Lots of love,

your mommy

God is Good

Dearest Sammie,

I wrote that last post and forgot one very important detail. It was too important to add as a post note, so I'm giving it its own post.

Your testimony, little one, is already quite evident. I know I've written in the past about feeling God tugging on my heart to adopt, and how it took so long for me to listen to Him.

Once I listened, Sammie, things moved pretty quickly.

In the hospital, your birthmom's social worker told me that K* really felt like God was telling her that -we- were your parents. She listened, Sammie.

After meeting you, I knew you weren't an Emily. You were a Samantha. Your birthmom seemed to know this, too. She picked your name over Emily.

That night, I wrote a post about how all of us formed together to name you.

The next morning, I got on the computer and looked up the meaning of your name. As I'm sure you already know, Samantha means "Listens to God."

Isn't that the truth? All of us; you, your birthmom and daddy and I all listened to God. And you came to us--the daughter we were meant to have from before time began.

I was wrong when I said earlier that we named you. We didn't name you at all. God did. Because we listened to Him.

I love you more than I never knew possible,
Mommy

Home Free!

Dearest Samantha,

In about two hours we will have been home with you for an entire day. I gotta tell you kiddo, you are causing quite the commotion here! It's been a fairly consistant stream of visitors since you came home. The entire neighborhood was dying to meet you because your father was so excited that he's spent the last 24 hours telling everyone that he's ever known (literally) that you are here. Poor Aunt Beth had to send about a gazillion text messages announcing your arrival on his behalf! For the people that have come to visit, you've been quite nice, choosing to quietly sleep in their arms and make cute little baby noises.

Shortly after coming home, we whisked you away to go to your first doctor's appointment with Dr. Krogstad (who came in special to meet you--it was her afternoon off). Your Nonni was so anxious to show you off! Your appointment went well, you've lost 3 ounces since you were born. I think it'll start piling back on soon because you definitely are eating your weight in formula each day.

We did get some bummer news at the appointment. Dr. Krogstad doesn't feel comfortable with you being exposed to large groups of people; especially people who are around babies regularly. We had planned to take you to the Willis family reunion tomorrow (you will be 3 days old by then), but Dr. Krogstad gave that one the big thumbs down to that one because she's worried you'll get sick with all of the exposure that could be involved if you were passed from person to person. We think we'll do the compromise the doctor suggested and introduce you to a smaller group at the reunion, really only showing you off to the Aunts, Uncles & Great Grandparents.

But that's tomorrow. Let's talk about last night. Sammie--you really are super baby. You let mommy and daddy sleep for a whole four and a half hours before crying to be fed. Fifteen minutes later, you were burped, changed and back in bed. You did wake up for a few minutes because you had become unswaddled, but after getting that fixed you were back in business and back to sleep. I did try to let you sleep in our bed earlier in the morning, but I don't know we'll be able to do that again. I woke up with every little move you made!

As I'm writing this, you've just finished sleeping in your crib for the first time and you slept...well, like a baby. Pardon the pun darling, just couldn't think of anything else to say. Roxy, I think, seems to know when she needs to be my "ears." She heard you quietly fussing and rushed to be with you in the nursery. I think I'll try my hand at keeping my eyes out for Roxy when you're in the nursery. If she perks up and goes into the nursery, I'll know that I will need to check on you.

Your Nonni's been awesome. She's stayed with us and is really helping make the transition so much easier. Poppa came by to visit (and pick up his other love: the cell phone he left behind last night). He's holding you now and feeding you.

Yep, Sammie, there's going to be some serious fights coming up soon. Everyone wants a piece of the Sammie action!

Well, I think that's about everything up to this point. I'm going to go back to holding you and loving you all over. Continue to be good for your mommy!

Lots of love,

-mommy

The Night You Were Born.

Dear Samantha,

You were born today: Thursday, May 21. At 12:02AM, you made your entrance into the world. It's amazing how you have already completely changed my life. You made me a mom. You made your father a dad. And today you gave your grandparents their title and I don't think they could be any prouder.

I realize that someday, I'm going to forget a lot of the little details of what went on today, so I'm going to try my best to write down as much as I can. Full disclosure: I've had all of two hours of sleep in the past 48 hours and my brain might not be all there right now. And did I mention that I'm on cloud 9? Yeah--my feet haven't touched the floor since I laid eyes on you.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. After writing the last post, your father, Nonni and I beelined for the hospital, where we were told that the security guard would let us into a separate delivery room to wait for your arrival. That didn't happen. There was a little bit of a mixup, and the three of us ended up waiting for forty minutes in the hospital lobby.

It was the longest forty minutes of my life.

Finally, the security guard got the phone call that it was ok for us to go back into the labor and delivery area. We were quickly met by a nurse, who made an off the cuff comment about YOU being HERE.

My thought process went something like this: Um. Stop the train. YOU'RE HERE?!?! As in--there's a baby waiting for me to be their mommy?

The world kind of slowed down at that point. We walked into the room, and there you were, in a hospital bassinet and surrounded by nurses. I didn't waste any time:

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Girl. What's her name?"

I swear, kiddo, my brain stopped at that moment. I shrieked and put my hands to my mouth and started bawling. "Emily Joy," I whispered.

And I knew as I said it that you weren't an Emily.

The next few moments flew by, as the three of us took turns holding you while the nurses looked excitedly on the scene that was unfolding before them.

Soon, we had a visitor: your birthmom's sister (your birth-aunt). I gotta say it; I love your birth aunt. She was one of the most kind and down to earth people I've ever met. She was excited to meet us and was so happy to see just how happy you were making us. She let us know that your birthmom wanted us to write down our names so she could make a decision.

We jotted down six names; three for each gender (your birthmom wasn't sure if she was ready to hear that you were a boy or a girl yet). A few minutes later, your birth aunt returned to the room with "Samantha Grace" circled and a note from your birthmom saying that whatever we picked was okay.

I looked at your father, and without saying a word we knew what your name was. It's Samantha Joy, and as I looked at you today I couldn't think of any other name to call you. It's almost as if you, your birthmom and your daddy and I pow-wowed together and named you.

And Samantha, you are the most beautiful baby I've ever seen.

I spent the night with you, waiting in a conference/storage room. You were anxious to eat; and amazed everyone by how quickly you downed 2 ounces of milk. Apparently you were hungry!

I held you for six straight hours, putting you down only when I had to because the nurses needed to do a check up. We spent the entire time just looking at each other, memorizing each other's faces.

I did manage to find the strength to read "Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born," but admittedly some of the words were mere squeaks because I was crying tears of joy as I read the pages (in fact, as I type this several hours later I'm tearing up all over again). I sang happy birthday to you (again, more tears of joy).

And I told you I loved you, little one. I now know what it means when mothers say that to have a child is to know the experience of having your heart outside of your body.

In the morning, your father joined me in the makeshift "adoption" room and we watched you get your first check up from your birthmom's doctor: Dr. Gorman. He told us a little more of your delivery (how you weren't coming at all, but then *wham* labor hit hard and you didn't waste any time getting here--the wham was later explained by your birthmom's social worker; she didn't start really laboring until the two women prayed together). He also said that you were remarkably healthy and that your Apgar score was a 9/9. That's as high as it gets, little one; you're an over achiever already!

After your father got to feed you, I reluctantly turned you over to the amazing nurses and went back to the hotel to get some much-needed sleep. Two hours later, I awoke to find your Nonni proudly showing me what she had bought you that morning.

By this point, your Poppa joined us and we all went down to the hospital to see you again. Your Poppa was so anxious to meet you that I don't think I could have wheeled you out fast enough!

The afternoon was just the three of us. The Vogts. Sarah, Jay and Sammie. I like the sound of that. It works. We spent the time just holding you, feeding you and watching you be you.

Later in the afternoon, guests came in droves. The first to arrive was your Aunt Erin & Uncle Grant. They ooh-ed and aah-ed and remarked at how cute you are (by the way, for a newborn, you are a drop dead gorgeous baby...no old man face here!). Soon, Grandma Max & Aunt Beth came (along with most of the contents of Babies R Us). It wasn't long before the cozy make shift room became an all out papparazi infestation. Cameras were going off all over the place!

And you were remarkably patient about it. Really, you only fussed when your swaddling came undone.

Somewhere in there, your birthmom's social worker came in and took me out to the hallway to talk a little more about some of the details surrounding your adoption. Your birthmom knew in her heart, Samantha, that you were always meant to be ours. She knew from the moment she laid eyes on our profile that we were to be the parents of the child she was carrying. She loved that we had pictures of the nursery along with candid shots of our day to day lives.

The social worker, Dianna, reminded me that the birthmom was very artistic (always sewing or putting together crafts or an art project) and loved that I've got a bit of a creative streak in me. She liked that I decorate cakes and make scrapbooks in my spare time, and loved that I am a drama teacher.

Diana told me a few more details, but honestly, I'm having a hard time remembering all of them. We spent some time going over the adoption plan; for now, we're to send updates and pictures every other month. In time, we hope to expand that to visits, but we'll take things as they go.

The *big* news had already been delivered, though: your birthmom officially named us as your parents shortly after being discharged. This means, Sammie, that you are officially Samantha Joy Vogt. You are our daughter.

And I love you more than you'll ever know. We've got a lifetime to get to know each other, and I, for one, am looking forward to every single moment. For now, this busy evening is coming to an end and the hotel bed is really calling me. Tomorrow, we get to pick you up from the hospital and, after we stop by the adoption agency to sign our end of the paper work, we take you home.

Home, Samantha. Your home. You're almost home!

All my love,

your mommy

WHAT?!?!

Dear Child of Mine,

I woke up at 11:15 this evening with your father standing over me. He gives me this big smile and starts to gesture saying that he got a phone call. It went something like this.

Me: *lifts head up from bed, eyes bloodshot and tired*

Daddy: Baby's almost here.

Me: WHAT!?!?!

Daddy: She's at 8 centimeters.

Me: It's almost HERE?!?!

Daddy: Yep.

Me: The baby's COMING?!?!

I don't know what happened after that. The last few minutes have been a blur.

And now, my darling, I'm off to finally meet you. You're almost here!

All my love,
your mommy

Not Yet

Dearest Little One,

So apparently the birthday wishes this morning were a little premature. We heard from our social worker this evening and your birth mom's labor hasn't progressed a whole lot so they're saying you'll make your big debut tomorrow or maybe Friday.

We're trying to keep busy, though. Your Poppa and I went to the mall today (and the pound of Sees candy that we bought is almost gone already--oops) and I picked out a card for your birth mother. There's so much I want to say to thank her, but words somehow escape me. I hope I can put onto paper what I've been thinking all along.

Your father and I, realizing that waiting in the hotel room was only making us stir crazy, ended up getting a last minute date in. We walked across the street to Boomer's and played a quick round of miniature golf. Your father must've really been distracted; I beat him by one point. That never happens. I, on the other hand, was totally on it: I got two hole in ones in a row!

So we're back in the hotel room, and your dad and I are going to head downstairs shortly so he can soak in the hot tub before the pool area closes in an hour. I didn't bring my swimsuit, so I'll be sitting poolside hopefully playing some card games with Nonni.

In the meantime, happy travels, little one!

your mommy

Just Hanging Out

Dearest Child of Mine,

We're just hanging out waiting at the hotel. It's about lunch time, and your father, Nonni & Poppa and I are going to grab lunch. The big debate is whether we'll go to a movie while we wait. I say we go to a movie because that means that surely you'll come THEN because we will have just forked over some $40 to see a cartoon that I've already seen.

Your Poppa was just teasing me, saying that I should be journaling the moments as they happen so you can read them one day. I pulled up this screen and showed him that I'm already on it.

So...we continue to wait. We got a call a little while ago from Adoption Kim; apparently you're taking your sweet time getting here and it could be another few days before you arrive. I wonder how long before cabin fever sets in? I don't know that I've got the patience to even let that happen; I think I heard Poppa mention something about a mall. Guess we're going window shopping!

Love you lots,
your mommy

Happy Birthday!

Dearest Child of Mine,

Today, in exactly 45 minutes, your father and I are going to make the trek to Modesto where we'll sit in a Holiday Inn Express and wait for the word that you have made your grand entrance into the world.

This is probably the understatement of the year, but I am so excited to meet you.

My *plan* is to meet you in the hospital and read a a children's book to you. I mentioned it in an earlier post: Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born.

I don't know if I'll be able to get through it, though. I started crying just reading it to myself silently yesterday. Even this morning, as I write this, tears are welling up in my eyes.

I'll see you today, my little one!

Lots of love,
your mommy

PS Happy Birthday!

We got THE Call!

Dearest Little One,

You aren't even born yet, but you sure are a thoughtful little bambino. You waited until I was done with all of my school obligations and tied up all of the loose ends before letting your birthmom know that you were ready to come out. You also wanted to make sure that I wasn't going anywhere: you waited so that when you were born, your mommy had the exact number of sick days ready to take the rest of the school year off: there are 17 days of school left, and I have exactly 17 sick days saved up for your arrival. For good measure, you even gave yourself the deadline of Wednesday, May 20th (and just for kicks and giggles, you even allowed me 48 hours notice so I can use tomorrow to get things just so for your homecoming this week).

I haven't met you yet, but already, you're my kind of child. Polite, thoughtful, considerate, and right on time. You, my child, ROCK!

If you were wondering where I was when I got THE phone call, it went something like this:

I was at your Nonni & Poppa's house because I had just sold their oven to help pay for your adoption. In fact, they were letting me sell all of the major appliances in their kitchen to help pay for your adoption. It's not that they're planning on spending the remaining years of their lives using a camp stove to make dinner; it's just that when they moved into their new house they didn't much care for the brand new appliances that the bank had put into their kitchen. So, before they even turned the appliances on, they replaced them with the stuff that was more their style and graciously allowed me to sell the "old" appliances online.

Getting back to the point, I was literally just telling Nonni that I had a gut feeling that you were going to come on Wednesday. Last week, as I was preparing my classroom for a sub, it came to me in a flash: Wednesday. I don't know why that came to me, but it was something that kind of just stuck. Then, to make things more interesting, your Auntie EllenAnn called me this weekend to tell me that she had a gut feeling that you were coming on the 20th. We put two and two together, little one, and this Wednesday is the 20th.

So I was finishing up telling your Nonni this (and I'm pretty sure that while she was patiently nodding as I was telling her this, on the inside she was probably thinking that her daughter was a nutjob), when my phone rang. You got it...it was Adoption Kim.

I answered the phone, not quite sure what to expect, when Adoption Kim told me that we have an induction date for your birth mom to bring you into this world: Wednesday, May 20th.

We talked for a while after that, going over details, but frankly, darling, my head was spinning. Your Nonni's eyes about popped out of her head when she heard me repeat the date over the phone and your Poppa just stared at me, soaking it all in. They graciously let me call your father to tell him the news (I think he was as stunned as I was) before asking for all of the details.

While things can change at any time, the plan (for now) is this:

I'm taking tomorrow off to wrap things up at home and clean for your arrival. We're leaving on Wednesday morning to head up to Modesto, where we're supposed to get a hotel room with your Nonni & Papa. Once we're in the hotel, we're supposed to wait for THE call that you, my son or daughter, has made his/her grand debut in the world. When we get THE call, we're going to be able to drop everything and make the mad dash to the hospital where we'll be able to lay eyes on you for the first time.

As we cross all of our t's and dot all of our i's in these hours before you're born, your birthmom is heavy on my heart. I think about her often, as I'm sure you do now. I wonder what she looks like. I wonder how she's doing. I wonder if she's going to be okay in the events of these next few days. I wonder, little one, and I pray for her, because I know it cannot be easy. I've never been in her shoes, but I know that the gift she's giving us is not an easy gift to give. She's told us (through our respective social workers) that she wants us to be your family because it's better than the family she'd be able to provide for you. That takes a lot of courage to be able to make that difficult decision.

I admire your birthmom so much. Not because she chose us, per se, but because she's putting your needs above her own. I don't know too many people who can do just that. She's a precious woman, your birthmom is. I hope, by now, that you're able to see just how wonderfully selfless she is.

It's all hitting me now, my child. We've been waiting to meet you for so long, and this moment is literally hours away. The next time I post, it'll be filled with pictures and details of your arrival. I cannot wait.

Until then,

your mommy

Team Blue or Team Pink?

Dearest Child of Mine,

As I mentioned in yesterday's letter, one of the things your dad and I did this week was get the dogs groomed. We couldn't see their eyes anymore (the abundance of fur all over their face took care of that) and we were pretty sure at one time that Roxy was white and not the mangy brown color that she had been sporting, so off the dogs went to get all purtied up.

We hadn't told the groomer that we were adopting a baby that was dueanyminute, so imagine my surprise when I picked the dogs up and found that each dog was making their baby gender preference known.

Roxy, as you can see by this picture here, clearly is voting for team pink:

Isn't she just the cutest thing? Can you see why

I'm a sucker for those big brown eyes of hers?

Maynerd, on the other hand, is making it known that HE is all for team blue and clearly wants another boy to round out the family.

You can kind of see the blue ribbon peeking out

from the side of his face. He's giving me his "Why are you

taking a picture of me NOW?" face. He's very good at it.

And then I took a classic example of 99% of the pictures that we've got of both of the dogs. Roxy's looking pretty alright and clearly has facial features. Maynerd, on the other hand, is so dark that we're only left to assume that somewhere in there are two eyes, a nose and a mouth. Flashes are useless because then he looks like he's possessed by the green Devil. Sigh. Poor guy. He's so awesomely good looking, but no one would ever know it unless you saw him in person.


You can see why I'm not the only one who's in a hurry for you to get here. Our dogs are clearly tired of being photographed ALL THE TIME and are more than willing to hand over the reigns.

Loving you tons,
your mommy

Spam is Funny

Dearest Child of Mine,

Are you here yet? I'm on day 56 of anxiously anticipating your arrival, and each day the anxiety is cranked up a notch. I thought I was bad last week, but it's nothing compared to what I've been feeling this week.

Each day, the first thoughts that I have in the morning are usually like this:"Will this be the day?" "Will this be the day that we find out if we've got a son or daughter?" "Will this be the day that I get to join club Mommy and Jay gets to join club Daddy?"

After keeping my phone rightbymyside while getting ready for work, I walk into school where my co-worker usually makes some sort of comment about you still not being here yet. During class, with my phone still rightbymyside (ok, on my desk), one or more of my students will either a) ask if there's any more baby news or b) ask if they can babysit. Today, when I answered one student's question by telling him that your due date is tomorrow, he responded by squealing and jumping up and down.

Yes, my darling, the excitement has officially reached a fever pitch...and you aren't even here yet.

To amuse myself and keep myself occupied, I've been to get as much done as I possibly can while I still can. We started off with the things that absolutely had to be done before your arrival: getting a carseat, washing some of your clothes and preparing your room for your great home coming (triple check). Once we did that, and you still weren't here, I moved on to the things that I had hoped to get done before you got here: that would be having the carseat checked by the CHP, getting the dogs groomed, and making sure that the dogs will be taken care of while we're gone (check, check and check). Then, we moved on to the things that could be done before you get here but really it doesn't matter a whole lot: preparing for the theatre awards, making cookie dough for next week's family reunion, and steam cleaning the spare room (again, triple check).

Each time I get another thing crossed off of my to-do list, I kinda wonder if that was the thing you were waiting for. I mean, maybe you didn't want to come into this world until I had covered all twenty four Spam cans with blue painter's because you knew that once you were here I wouldn't really have a whole lot of time to get ready for this year's theatre awards? The thought occurred to me today as I was meticulously taping each can that it would be REALLY funny to tell you one day that we got THE call while your mommy was neck high in spam cans and painter's tape. Then again, by the time you're old enough to read this, it won't seem so odd that your mother is neck high in spam and painter's tape because, well, frankly, by the time you read this you will have seen me make the Hammy awards ten times over and the novelty is probably lost on you.

Back to the point: when I didn't get THE call while making the Hammy awards, I thought to myself as I carried them out to the car "Maybe I'll get THE call while I'm carrying a box of tape-covered spam cans...that would be funny, too." Yep. Didn't happen. No phone call.

So now...I continue to wait. I did get a onesie ordered that has the word "Spam" emblazened on it for you to wear to the Hammy Awards. I think it'll be cute!

Love you lots,

mommy

Uncertainty is the Name of the Game

Dearest Little One,

We're now four days before your birth mother's due date and the anxiety has now found a permanent home in the bottom of my stomach. Our lives have become a series of uncertainties as we wait for the inevitable change that you will bring into our lives. In the meantime, I find myself counting down each final event as it happens. Last Friday, for example, your father and I went on what will probably be our last double date with Aunt Beth & Uncle Tom for a while. Going grocery shopping brought about yet another revelation: you will probably make me a mommy before the milk I just bought expires. Wow.

For now, I jump out of my skin every time the phone rings. Every day I go to school, I wonder if it's the last day I'll teach before I go on family leave for the rest of the school year. Every meal your father and I eat, I wonder if it's the last quiet meal we'll have together.

Going to bed isn't without its uncertainties, either. I've been sleeping with this bonding doll that your Auntie Melissa bought for you. I'm hoping that it will become your favorite toy. It's blue and oh so soft! It's called the twinkle baby:

At any rate, the "what ifs" strike the most at night. I wonder, "What if tonight is the night I get the phone call?" "What if I don't hear the phone or Jay sleeps through it?" The hardest "what if" is the most painful one. "What if the birth mom changes her mind?"

I know, in my heart, that if the birthmom DOES change her mind then the baby she's carrying isn't you. I want so badly for this child to be you, my precious son or daughter, but adoption is never a set in stone thing. For now, however, this birthmom has remained firm in her decision to selflessly place you into our homes forever, and that's the decision I'm comforting myself with each night. I can't imagine a more gracious and loving act then the one she's planning on doing in the near future: giving your father and I the opportunity to be parents to you. I look forward to sharing our lives with her as you grow up, and plan on making good on my promise to keep the adoption as open as she's comfortable with.

To get back to the present, we did receive a phone call today from our social worker today. Your birthmom had an ultrasound yesterday, and apparently you're quite big and down low. This is a good sign, little one, because that means you're preparing to make your way into the world!

As we wait for you to make your big debut, I'm continuing to drive your father absolutely bonkers with my neurotic desire to get all of my ducks in a row. I think it's my own way of dealing with the uncertainty of the future. I can't control what will happen in the hospital, I can't control how our family will expand, but I can control how I prepare for everything. I'm obsessed with getting things just so so that we don't hit any major snags along the way:

• The overnight bags have been packed for a month: one for you (complete with both gender-appropriate "going home" outfits) and one for us
• The backpack is filled with every electronic device known to man: video camera, digital camera (when your dad's not stealing it), laptop, DVD player...you get the idea. I've also had the foresight to pack their respective chargers.
• The people taking care of our dogs (Travis & Lisa) have been given house keys and put on high alert. I've also given Auntie Beth the full lecture about the dogs should Travis & Lisa not understand the detailed instructions I've left on the laundry room door.
• Your nonni graciously agreed to bring snacks to keep us well fed during our hospital/hotel stay. She's in Sacramento for the next few days, but she brought the snack bag & ice chest with her, just in case she needs to meet us in the hospital on short notice. Hmmm...like mother, like daughter?
• The lists of guests to be invited to your baby showers have been written out and addresses collected.
• A few pacifiers and a bottle have been sterilized and are ready to be used.
• Car seat is installed, ready to be checked by the CHP (tomorrow at 2:45, thankyouverymuch).
• I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've got a typed list hanging on the nursery door of things we're supposed to remember before we go to the hospital. I even used the scrapbook machine to spell out "Remember" in big letters on top of the list. Someday, I'll probably add it to your baby book and we'll all get a big laugh at how insane I was during this time!

I know, I know...I'm a little type-A. And by a little, I mean a lottle. I'm finding myself doing the same things I did in school to earn the good grades that I did: I'm studying up (three baby books along with several adoption books) and am in severe danger of becoming a veritable walking, talking book. In short, little one, I'm doing what I do best: studying my way to becoming a mother.

And nothing, little one, nothing I read or do is going to completely prepare me for how you're about to rock our world. Be gentle, kiddo--your mom and dad are completely new at this!

Much love,

your mommy

My Biggest Fear: Fermenting Laundry

Dearest Child,

So, as we're waiting to get THE phone call that your birth mom is in labor, I've been checking and triple checking to make sure we're ready to go. The bags are packed, lists have been made, and the arrangements have been made to ensure that our dogs don't starve while we're gone.

It's in this frantic "Are-you-ready-because-I-think-I'm-ready-but-I-guess-we-won't-really-know-until-he-or-she-is-here-if-we've-prepared-everything-oh-boy-it-really-could-happen-ANY-TIME-and-gosh-darnit-that-reminds-me-that-I-need-to-go-to-the-Highway-Patrol's-Office-to-see-if-we-installed-the-carseat-right" mode that a new fear struck my heart: the laundry.

I'm so scared that we'll forget one of the "must-haves" in our frantic mad dash out of the house that will follow THE phone call (I don't know why, but whenever I make that statement I must put extra emphasis on "THE" because surely it will be unlike any other ordinary phone call). For example, it might seem logical that our camera is one of those things that MUST go into the overnight bag when we go to the hospital. Your father took it today to take a picture of this boat and he got the two minute lecture of how important it is that the camera make its way back to its original spot on the counter lest we forget it and be the worst parents EVER because we didn't take pictures of our precious little one in the hospital because HEAVEN FORBID it should NOT be where it's supposed to be when we make the aforementioned mad dash out the door to the hospital.

But back to the laundry. The thought of rushing out of the house and accidentally leaving clothes in the washer to ferment and smell and get all gross strikes fear in my heart. Allow me to explain: usually, laundry is an all weekend event: one load goes in the washer while another goes in the dryer. This cycle is repeated six or seven times until all of our clothes are dry, folded and smelling Downy fresh. Like most people, laundry is something that is done on the side when I've got other, more important things going on (like updating this blog).

While I was repacking your baby bag the other day, the thought occurred to me that, in that prophetic mad dash out the door, we might not remember that there's a wet load of laundry waiting to go into the dryer. Granted, I don't think anyone would blame us if we did forget: who in their right mind honestly thinks of laundry after getting word that they need to get to the hospital NOW because their son/daughter is on his/her way? Right. Not what one would typically think about during that exciting time.

Which is why it is entirely feasible that laundry could be left for days on end to get all gross while we're in the hospital. It's also why I have taken it upon myself to worry about it now because chances are I won't be worrying about it when THE time comes. At any rate, I've managed to appease my fears by washing clothes little by little. Once a load is washed AND dried, I put the next load in. It takes twice as long, but it puts my laundry fears to rest.

I know--I'm cookoo. But you still love me and hopefully (if my plan works), you won't be brought home for the first time only greeted by the rancid smell of sour towels.

Lots of love,
Your mommy

Poor Dogs

Dearest Child,

As we count down the weeks (and now days) to the time where we'll get THE phone call that a baby is on its way, I've found myself doing all of the things that a pregnant woman would do. I'm washing (and re-washing) all of the sheets and clothes that we've got. I'm also organizing like a mad woman. Last weekend's attempt to locate a measuring tape turned into a half hour junk drawer purging fest. Our junk drawer has never been so clean. Whodathunk that buried in five years worth of "junk" would be twenty something twix-it clips and batteries galore? Sidenote: I also turned the hundred or so rubber bands loitering in the drawer into a very cool rubber band ball.

At any rate, while I've been "nesting," I can't help but to think of the two little dogs whose worlds will be forever rocked in a few weeks. They don't realize it, but as we're counting down the days to bring you home, we're also savoring every last minute of having dogs that truly are the center of our familial universe. I look into their brown eyes, clueless to the situation as they may be, and I just feel so dang awful. Visions keep coming to my head of two mangy dogs staring at me from outside while I hold a sleeping baby in my arms. And I Can't. Shake. The. GUILT.

Not that they've got much to complain about. They've had pretty awesome lives up until this point. They're fed countless "cookies" throughout the day (so some people may call them bribes, but hey, I never claimed to be the dog whisperer). They only go outside to go to the bathroom, and then it's right back inside the house. Family portraits aren't complete unless they've got the dogs in them. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for these two, our camera would be absolutely void of any pictures whatsoever.

I think their biggest treat so far would be on Friday and Saturday nights, when we fall prey to their pleas and let them sleep at the foot of the bed. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, ROXY sleeps at the foot of the bed, while Maynerd happily snoozes between your father and I. He's taken that spot since we were first married. He used to growl whenever your daddy got too close to me in bed, but we've since then managed to break that habit. Now he growls at ME whenever I get too close to your father in bed.

You get the point...these dogs are spoiled. And that gravy train's about to come to a stop pretty quickly. What's a furbaby mom to do? Well, whenever I've got a laptop free lap, I pick them up and give them each a good ear scratchin'. I also find myself being exceptionally cognizant of all of their 'quirks' lest I forget them the moment I become a "real" mom.

Take Maynerd, for example. Homeboy loves to get into the bathroom trash and steal the dang crumpled up dixie cups that your father and I use each night to take our medicine. He'll rummage through the bin none too subtly and, once he's found his "prize," he'll beeline for underneath our bed to happily chew on what truly must be the greatest thing he's ever found on this green earth. Granted, as soon as he's found out, I pull the cup out from underneath him and throw it away in the one trashcan he can't get into: the kitchen trash.

Maynerd's other quirk is his attitude about sleep. To say that Maynerd kind of likes sleep is like saying that your dad "kind of" likes cars. About an hour or so before we go to bed, he'll quietly slip into our bedroom, hop onto our bed, and fall into a deep sleep. I think his reasoning is that if we find him there, we won't want to disturb him and we'll let him spend the night in our bed. Admittedly, sometimes he outsmarts us because we play right into his paw and let him stay there. Most of the times, however, I scoop him up and carry him fireman style to the laundry room, where his cookie/bribe awaits him.

Roxy, on the other hand, can't get to the laundry room fast enough each night and each morning because she can't WAIT to get her cookie. While most dogs might whimper at the sight of their owner putting on his/her shoes because that means separation surely will follow, Roxy gets positively giddy because that means that she's going to get her morning cookie. Yeah. She's a sell out, but she knows it.

Roxy's love of all things food related isn't her only quirk. She's quite positively the most vocal dog I've ever met. I don't mean to simply imply that she barks excessively (although she does do it each time she thinks it's breakfast or supper time). Homegirl murmers. And moans. And groans. And snorts. And coos. Anytime I scratch her in just the right spot, she turns into a bumbling mess as she gasps and grunts and sighs with pleasure.

Sigh. I love these two dogs so much, yet I feel that they've only given me a mere glimpse as to what parenthood really entails. In my urge to nest, the role that the dogs currently play in our little family has definitely not been lost on me. I'm doing everything I can to ensure a smooth transition. I've even gone so far as to sleep for the past few weeks with the blanket we'll take you home in. Dog experts say that if the dogs to smell something that has the parents' scent mixed with the baby's scent before the dog/baby introduction takes place, then the dogs are more likely to sense that this baby is here to stay.

We'll see about that. At any rate, if you ever see baby pictures of yourself playing in the living room, and notice in the background that there are two miffed dogs on the outside looking in, you'll know why.

In the meantime, baby, I'm counting down the sleeps until we meet!

Lots of love,
your mommy

PS. It's 9PM, about an hour before our bedtime. As if on cue, Maynerd's left the living room to happily fall asleep on our bed. Roxy's not ready for bed yet; she's merely looking at me as she waits for her evening cookie.