Release

Even with all my attempts at being in the moment (as chronicled in previous posts), I've started feeling like my baby expectations are weighing me down. They are ever present. I play the "I wonder if" game. I wonder if the next time I see my mom Baby Barto will be with us? I wonder if next Christmas we'll be carting a little one to see Santa and light displays? I wonder if Baby Barto will be here when the next season of Entourage is on? It's like every future event, is prefaced with "I wonder if." At first this was a fun game to play, but as I watch things slow down a bit in adoption-land the "I wonder if" is starting to get exhausting. And even with a referral, we'll still nave more unknown waiting to do. Waiting for court, waiting for travel.

In an effort to let some of this go, I made a list. A list of all those thoughts, the counting, the wishes and expectations taking up space in my brain. And I set them on fire (in the grill). I wanted to symbolically release all these longings into the universe. I needed to feel lighter, to be more in the moment. As I watched the flame engulf my list, I started worrying that a spark would blow into the leaves and start a fire that would burn down our neighborhood. So, I put it out. (I know this is rather unlikely, but still I would've felt guity it I burnt down our neighborhood. Try explaining that to the neighbors and the fire department.)

But it felt good to acknowledge that I do have some control. I have control over how I approach the waiting, the unknown. I can control how I spend these next months. Rather than thinking about how something is missing from my life, I can enjoy all that is in my life right now, in this very moment. I can get excited for the holidays and the time spent with family and friends. I can send love into the world for Baby Barto, the people caring for him/her and for his/her first family. I can let go.

Entering a new week filled with possibilities.