Pardon the silence. We've been busy checking off activities on our Summer of Fun list - most recently a short vacation to the Pacific Northwest.
Also, I've been avoiding telling you something. We got a referral. (For those of you not hip to the adoption lingo, that means we were matched with a baby.) We don't expect to meet said baby until next year; international adoption is not a simple process to complete (understatement alert). And now, as they say in the movies, "I've said too much already." I'm bursting to tell you more, but I'll behave and abide by the agency rules and not blog about it.
I will, however, tell you that the referral happened a few months sooner than expected. Suddenly. On my due date. A cynic might see that as just a coincidence. I am not a cynic - hey, stifle those snorts of laughter! - I'll have you know that the proper term is "bitter spontaneous aborter with a hopeful gooey caramel-filled center." I cling to the belief that the trauma of the last two years was part of The Grand Plan - as opposed to A Cruel Joke, the feeling that usually prevails. (The cruel joke is the dead baby part, not the adoption part. See the usual disclaimer.)
The post-referral feeling is very similar to pregnancy - simultaneously thrilled yet terrified that something will go wrong. But for this post, we'll stick with thrilled! 2012 will finally be our year.
