Archive for category Adoption Search

Those Three Words

Caren had been thinking it for a while, but it slipped out quite accidentally.

C and her BioMom speak every few days. We get farm updates fand give packing updates. They’re becoming friends, and are just enjoying talking about everything and nothing.

Another horse is about to go into labor; one was just born. We rented out not only our apartment, but the empty one below it; so our landlords can go on their honeymoon with zero vacancies. BioStepDad’s Corvettte is running better. I made sourdough pancakes in a half-packed kitchen. Blah, blah blah. How’s the weather there. Hot? It’s nice here today, but rainy yesterday. Blah, blah. Well, I gotta go. Love you.

And then she realized she said it.

There was only a split second to panic before an excited squeal came out of the phone and a gush of ILOVEYOUTOO turned her panic to joy. She tried to say something else, but BioMom already said “okayallrightthenokaybye” and hung up the phone.

It was so cute.

They’ve talked a few times since then, and the calls end with I love you and I love you, too. Them moving van gets here in six days.

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Meeting The Family: An Adoption Reunion

<— (Packing: Where the Past and Future Collide)

Vancouver, BC became “Seattle for a few months while we get approved for Permanent Resident status.” Without rat-race jobs you have to have proof of funds. $12659 Canadian. In the nearly three years we’ve been here, we’ve watched the exchange rate play with our emotions, but we stayed optimistic and saved our pennies.

Then, eight weeks ago, my wife found her birth mother.

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

On April 30, we will be picking up our moving van and moving to a small farm in Texas to get to know the family.

We flew out once, but stayed in a hotel. These ARE strangers, after all.

C’s parents kept in touch with each other over the years, so when we visited we were able to meet her birth father as well. The two of them looked so cute together and behaved like teenagers. They kept staring at C.

“She has your hands!”

“She has YOUR nose!”

“Remember the time when…”

They laughed and joked and played and reminisced. Our trip turned into a family reunion. It was the best birthday my wife ever had.

The next night, we went to a small hamburger-joint/ice-cream-parlor. While sitting there, C’s birth mother and father discovered the plot to break them up all those years ago.

It started with a flippant remark. Something about the girl he dated after she left to have the baby. It turns out it was a set-up and a one-time thing to cheer him up for when she disappeared.

“When you didn’t answer my letters, I thought you’d moved on,” she said.

His face fell. “What letters?”

“I wrote to you every day for the first month”

His eyes glassed over.

She continues. “…and you never…”

He shakes his head.

They sit silently, connecting the dots. They each thought the other had left them.

He never knew why she left so abruptly without a word, she never knew why he ignored her explanation and dated someone else while she was gone. Even though they went to high school together for another year and saw each other at the annual homecoming game, this was the first time they had ever talked about their breakup.

Shortly after graduation, C’s mother met the love of her life, to whom she’s still married. She lives on a large plot of land. Part farm, part ranch, part homestead – it has hayfields, a barn, a cabin and two houses (with a third coming soon) – along with horses, llamas, rabbits, cats, and dogs.

We’ll be staying in the cabin.

C’s father married twice. The second time stuck. He has a child for each marriage. He lives a few towns over.

C’s mother never had any other children.

They seem like nice enough people, and I look forward to knowing them better.

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Packing: Where the Past and Future Collide

I don’t have to begin packing until Saturday. I know this because I have packing down to a science. I’ve done it enough times.

When my wife and I were first married, we moved every six months. Sometimes less than six months if writing wasn’t paying the bills and there were no Help Wanted signs to be seen.

It was more like apartment hopping than moving, even if our friends did have to drive 50 or 60 extra miles to come see us.

As the years passed, the corporate job that overworked/underpaid Caren kept us from getting too far in any one direction, but when you work sales you don’t have to report into the office in person very often and she never minded a long drive.

Six months, move. Six months, move. Six months, move. For vacation, we’d go even farther. We were itching to get away.

As the 90s wound on and the money got better, a short flight became cheaper than long drive. The distance grew.

Our last three stops were nine months, twenty-two months, and now… two years and eight months.

Wow. Has it really been that long? No wonder Seattle feels like home. It feels good to have a place on this dusty ball where we feel that way.

Our stop in Seattle wasn’t planned. Originally, San Luis Obispo, California was going to be our home. My wife was going to quit the rat race in nine months, and we were going to move to the coast and flip hamburgers for tourists. Then three things happened.

First, a 6.5 earthquake in San Simeon crumbled much of SLO County. Second, the rat-race job that was going to be paying for all of this got wind of the plan and fired Caren four months early. Third… third is for another post.

So nine months became twenty-two months and SLO became Vancouver, BC.

Vancouver, BC became “Seattle for a few months while we get approved for Permanent Resident status.” Without rat-race jobs you have to have proof of funds. $12659 Canadian. In the nearly three years we’ve been here, we’ve watched the exchange rate play with our emotions, but we stayed optimistic and saved our pennies.

Then, eight weeks ago, my wife found her birth mother.

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

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