indications

Reason number three hundred and sixty eight I know that Birdie was always meant to be my child: feet custom made for flip flops. She's a California girl through and through.

I can't believe she is already two months old. The hair she was born with has fallen out and the new hair is coming in. It's still a little reddish, which happens to be reason number one hundred and four that I know she was meant to be mine.

I have a few things I forgot to say to her birth mom at the time of her birth so. . .

Dear B.,

Thank you for being so great. Thank you for getting great prenatal care. Thank you for being so gorgeous and passing along your fabulous genes. Thank you for giving Amelie her sweet nature. Thank you for letting me cut the cord. Thank you for letting me be the first to hold her. Thank you letting my entire family come to the hospital and meet you, even though you just went through labor and probably would have rather been left alone. Thank you for sharing your birth story with people so that other families might be able to receive the blessings of adoption. Thank you for being so normal and fun. Thank you for every pain and push you endured during labor. Thank you for being my friend.

Oh and thanks for cooking up a baby with flip flop toes. That was a nice touch.

I'm sure I'll think of more things to say later, but for now, kisses and hugs from all of us.

April

you ain't seen nothing yet

You may think you've seen some cute things here on Suaviloquy, but let me tell ya, you ain't seen nothing yet.


Ba ba ba baby, you just ain't seen nothing yet.



Amelie was born on Monday the 18th at 12:45 p.m.. She weighed 7 lbs 3 ounces. She is 20 inches long. She is the most beautiful baby ever born. I know you probably think that your kids were the most beautiful, and I'm sorry to burst that bubble, but the facts are the facts.


I want to bear testimony to you that placing a baby for adoption is an act of indescribable love. It can only be done right when the birth mother allows Christ into her life. Amelie was always meant to come to us, but without her birth mom's strength and faith she might not have found her way.

I stand all amazed.

peace

For those of you out there, waiting to exhale, let it go. Let it all out and breath deep the sweet air of today.

I'm sorry to keep you waiting.

Last weekend will go down as one of the best in our life.

The when, where and what to wear of our meeting ended up to be very inconsequential. As is turns out, we have known this girl for ages. She is family.

She is a pint sized American sweetheart. She's a pink beach cruiser on the boardwalk, a vintage JuicyFruit commercial, the girl next door that all the boys plan to marry some day.

Did you know that peace is the only emotion that Satan can't duplicate? He's got love and happiness down pat. He can fool you into believing just about anything, but peace, well, he can't touch it.

As I sat across the table from our birth mom, I was wrapped in peace. I know she was chosen to carry our child. I know that we are bound together by forces we may not understand until we die. I know that I will love her, and her family until I take my last breath and beyond.

These are tough times for so many people right now. I feel a little guilty for our happiness. I feel like a child with a huge lollipop while the other children look on. I want to share my sweetness with everyone. I want everyone to take a big lick and know that God is good. Miracles happen. Hang onto your faith and work towards peace in your life.



Here's a few pics from Mayberry (a.k.a. North Ogden):

blessed are the curious

Tomorrow is going to be a memorable day for our family. Tomorrow we meet the amazing girl who is granting us our hearts desire. I am so curious to see her in person. I am curious to see how I feel in her presence. I hope I don't burst into tears and do the ugly cry the entire time.

Wish me luck.

I am equally curious to see what our daughter is going to look like. Will she have light or dark hair? Will she look like me? (Don't be skeptical. It happens more often than you'd think.)

Personally, I hope she looks just like her birth mom who is a classic American beauty.

Tracy Raver is a photographer in Omaha Nebraska. I never thought I'd wish I still lived there, but Tracy makes it tempting. I'd love to have her photograph our little sweetpea. Her sister (see pic in previous post) also does infant photography.

If you are wondering what to get the baby who already has everything (sorry girls, I just can't help myself) there is always a little knitted munkin hat or swaddler used in these pictures available through Mad About Color.

I feel like I am stepping into our future this weekend. It is supposed to be raining and overcast in Utah, but everything looks bright to me.

alligator tears

Its a beautiful day here in Cali. The sun is beating down with all it's might and the winds are swirling around to create the perfect temperature. The birds as singing and we are talking about grilling up some king crab legs for dinner. And me? Well I feel like plucking off all the warbling birds with a bb gun, shutting all the blinds and eating Crisco from the can. In my world, today is grey and ugly.

I didn't think I'd ever be in this place again. I thought my angry infertility days were a thing of the past. Today proved me wrong. I'm just down right pissed.

If one more person says "oh don't worry, it will happen" I may just reach down their throat and rearrange their organs.

I laid on my bed and cried alligator tears. Why alligator? Because I am not only weak with sadness I am also ready to bite the head of anyone who crosses my path. You know what they say about wounded animals. Sugar Daddy laid beside me and rubbed my back unaware that any false move and he could have lost an arm.

This too shall pass. If I've learned one thing it is that time goes on and things iron themselves out. Besides, I must pull myself together for Monday's post. Suaviloquy is turning one and I have a super fun give away for you. I'll get right on that after I eat an entire tub of chunky monkey ice cream and sleep for 20 hours.


If you are wondering what you can do to cheer me up, I'm taking chocolate donations. Please send them c/o Infertile Myrtle.

god's snacks

I thought it might help our chances of finding a birth mother if we had a profile on the internet. It can't hurt right? Well, actually, if I were to truly divulge all my little weird idiosyncrasies I'm pretty sure my chances would be shot.

But these are things I can keep under wraps. Maybe not from you, my readers. They are slowly seeping out into my blog over time, but to a girl who stumbles onto our profile site, unaware, I should look pretty normal.

Here, check it out. Tell me what you think.

Do you think a person could ascertain from our photos that sometimes we stay in our pajamas all day, watch Spongebob and eat junk food? Can you tell that I'm the type of girl that sometimes vacuums naked before I jump in the shower? Do you see the crazy dancer that Ben really is?

If it isn't too much trouble, let's just keep these things between us.

If you know someone considering adoption for their child, send them directly to the profile page. We don't want to scare anybody off right away. They can get in touch with us here:

Okay, on to lighter subjects. Well, not really.

We were sitting in church today and they were preparing to serve the sacrament. Thom excitedly and not quietly said, "Yeah! Snacks!"

So being the reverent mom that I am, I said, "Shush. Not snacks Thom, the sacrament. You are supposed to think of Jesus when you take the sacrament. Now sit up and quit picking your nose."

And he replied, "I know Mom. It's God's snacks. God's snacks Mom."

That put me to thinking. The sacrament kind of is like God's snacks. It is meant to be a respite from our daily life. It is to nourish us spiritually and buoy us up for the week to come. A little something to hold us over. Just a little snack.

From the mouth of babes.

pandemic

Is it just me or is the entire female population pregnant? Is there some kind of pregnancy pandemic? Is my Pur water pitcher filtering out what everyone else has been drinking?

I saw a woman who was probably about seventy and she looked pregnant. Scouts honor. She was walking around Sur La Table with a rotund belly that I swear could only be pregnancy related. Or maybe she had a tumor in which case I will be struck by lightning later today.

Everywhere I go I can't seem to escape big pregnant bellies. And it may just be my perception, but these women seem to want to draw attention to themselves with their exaggerated waddle and the braggy way they rest their hands across the wide expanse of their midsection.

Don't bother leaving me a comment in defense of the pregnant waddle. I'm being facetious and I'm not in the mood. I try not to moan too much about my barren womb, but to be honest infertility is a treasure trove of complaints. And every once in a while, like when the entire world gets pregnant except for me, my grievances come out.

Just give me this moment of ugliness and ingratitude. After All, tonight I will sit and flip through The Boy's baby photos and I will be shamed.

God has given us this precious gift. For years, I prayed on my knees, "Please Lord, grant us this blessing and we will be happy." I think I should make good on my word.

Thomas 3 weeks

And so, instead of feeling sorry for myself when I am SURROUNDED by preggies at the Target checkout, I am going to think about heartburn, constipation, nausea, weight gain, bloating and vaginal varicose veins. Ew.

And I'm going to be happy for myself.

a small encounter

Small Child: You know, we have more toys at our house than you do at yours.

Me: Oh well that is probably because we only have one kid in our family and you have three.

Small Child: Why do you only have one kid?

Me: Well . . . God has only given us one kid so far.

Small Child: Why?

Me: I don't know.

Small Child: Is he going to give you more kids?

Me: Yeah, I think we will be getting more kids.

Small Child: When?

Me: Don't know.

Small Child: Then how do you know you will get them?

Me: I just know.

Small Child: No, how do you know? You might not.

Me: A little birdy told me so.

Small Child: What? A bird? It could talk? What was it's name?

Me: Frank.

Small Child: Birds can't talk!

Me: Hummm. You believe whatever you want, but Frank and I talked all through lunch. I had ham on rye, he had tuna fish. He told me he gets really mad when little kids ask a lot of questions.

Small Child: You're just kidding. Frank didn't talk.

Me: Oh, you got me. I'm just being funny. Did you know that I have more friends than you? I even have friends in Finland. I guess that makes me the coolest. You better run along now, I think your mom is calling.

a chirstmas wish

Sugar Daddy has been asking me what I would like this Christmas. I haven't been able to give him any concrete ideas. It just happens to be one of those years. I really just want to have a nice day watching my son enjoy the magic of Christmas. Really.

However, there is one little thing that I have been pining for. Unfortunately, it isn't something that my dear husband can pick up on his way home from work.

In a way, I feel like a greedy child at Christmas. I know I am already so blessed to have the Boy. Many people out there will never be able to parent at all. So call me greedy. I'll own it. I want another one. I want another so badly at times my heart and arms feel like Jell-O. I want diapers and formula and onesies. I want fat cheeks and early morning feedings and Gerber carrot puree' stains on my white shirts.

This order may be a little tall, even for Santa. But, I'm putting it out there. I'm sending out this request to the village of friends I have here on the web. If you know of anyone who is looking to place their baby for adoption, would you please consider referring her to our little family?

And in the meantime, I'll continue to thank the good Lord everyday for the son that I have and think of ways to makes the happiest of Christmas memories with him.

forbidden fruit à la mode

I have been thinking lately. I have been thinking, that is, about food, specially sweets, because this is what I do when I try to diet. I think about sweets ALL THE TIME.

So I was thinking about Eve. You know, Eve of the Bible. Quite frankly, I'm not buying the forbidden apple story. I have serious doubts that it was any kind of fruit at all. I mean really, she choose to fall from grace over a piece of fruit? Was it sugared or poached? Was it served à la mode? I think what the bible really means by "forbidden fruit", is the fruit of the labors of a baker who was indeed an angel and thus made the most heavenly, most delicious confections to be found. I'm guessing it was chocolate, some kind of moist, gooey, rich dark chocolate ganache torte. That would do it.

I have a small confession to make. Yesterday, or really since I posted on Tuesday and mentioned coconut cupcakes, I have been craving them. I had a moment of weakness and broke out the muffin pan. I made myself feel a little better by taking half of them to a friend who is nursing and was just told she can't have chocolate anymore. I ate one after dinner last night and another first thing when I got up this morning. I am a weak, foolish woman when it comes to sweets. Thank goodness Thom just finished the last one.

don't cry mommy

It has become an everyday thing. It goes like this:

Thom: Mom when do we get our China sister?

Me: When Heavenly Father says it is time.

Thom: When will that be?

Me: I don't know Thom, I really don't know.

Thom: I wish he would hurry up and give us our China sister Mom.

Me: Me too Thom. Me too.

Yesterday for some reason (most likely hormones) I teared up when we went through this little exercise. Thom then said, "Don't cry Mommy. Heavenly Father will give her to us when it is time." Which was sweet, so I cried a little harder.

I have been going through stacks and stacks of old magazines and tearing out the ideas I like to put in my "inspiration" books, which are binders with plastic sleeves. It is high time I did this. Sugar Daddy has had it with my obsessive magazine hording. Anyway, in doing this I ran across a Martha Stewart recipe for french onion soup. For some strange reason, I decided it would be fun to make a massive pot of soup in the middle of August.

I was chopping up the FIVE POUNDS of onion that the recipe called for and my eyes were watering like crazy. Thom said, "Mommy, are you crying over that China baby again?" (He gets his sentimentality from me) I told him that the onions were killing my eyes and so a minute later he shows up with his swim goggles. At Sur La Table they carry onion cutting goggles. My son is a genius, but we already knew that. I stretch the goggles on and sure enough, they worked like a gem. Thom got a good laugh at me and he took the following photo.

The soup turned out great. Mind you, we were sweating our brains out while we ate it, but man it was good. Here is the recipe I found on the Martha website. It is a little different from the one I used, but I really don't feel like typing the whole thing out.

I love these little aqua blue ramekins I have. They make any dish look great.

I spent a lot of time thinking about our adoption while I cooked and clipped magazines yesterday. The wait for China is going to be a few more years and we would really like to have a child now so that Thomas can have a sibling to play with and this yearning ache in our arms will go away. They say one of the best ways to get a baby is to tell everyone you know that you are looking for a birth mother. Sooo- World Wide Web- if you know a birth mother looking to place her baby, and you think we'd be good parents even after reading about our crazy life, please contact me.