Waiting kind of kills my creative muse. Well, that, and typing for several hours a day for work. It makes blogging a lot lower on the priority list, and I apologize for that.
By waiting, I mean waiting for a court date for Ethiopia. Our Social Worker still remains hopeful that we'll get one before August 6th. Each day that goes by makes me a little more anxious. If we do get one that soon, travel plans are going to difficult, expensive, and rushed. For this rural Idaho greenhorn, that sounds horribly daunting.
Every day, I struggle just to keep afloat with this weighty burden of waiting upon me. I pull myself out of bed in the morning after another night of restless sleep. I get the Bean, change him and give him his bottle of warmed milk. For a few precious months, he is still my baby, and I'm reluctant to give up the bottle and snuggles just yet, although I know the time is coming. It is peeking around the corner, in fact.
At the noon hour, I give the kids their lunches, and then send up a prayer of relief when "quiet time" comes and I can be alone with my burden. I pray. Broken, disconnected words. I think of my little girl, so far away.
It feels like that interminable last week of pregnancy when the body is preparing itself for birth. That time that seems as though it will never end, but you know in your head eventually it will... It's the mother's way of preparing herself for the trauma and wonder of labor and birth. I guess I am being prepared for that as well... The birth of a new relationship, a new child into my life and heart and family. A mother goes through this transformation sooner than anyone else, a secret, silent metamorphosis. I am trapped right now in a chrysalis, and I almost cannot breathe.
Life goes on all around me. Children grow and chatter and laugh. On the outside, I talk to them, kiss them. I take them to the science center and teach them new words. But on the inside, I am buried in a cocoon of silent, trembling waiting.