NYC: Meeting Mom & Baby

Last night, the baby was born. I had hoped/planned on being at the hospital when he was born... But he came a few days early and he came pretty quickly. Both mom and baby are doing fine and we have spoken with birthmom/first mom/ new mom with a decision to make. Our contact with her remains really positive and when we spoke this morning she reiterated that she still wanted us to come to the hospital today.

Sooo... We are about 3.5 hours away from the hospital. My mom is with us and will sit with the kids while we meet them for the first time.

In the interest of saving time, here are the answers to the FAQ's:

- No, we have no idea what to say or do when we get there.
- Yes, I am disappointed that we missed the birth.
- Yes, it is looking like this adoption may actually take place.
- Yes, anything could change at any time.
- Yes, there is a window of time where she can revoke consent, it is 30-45 days I believe.
- Yes, that is terrifying.
- Yes, we actually signed up for this roller coaster on purpose.
- Yes, she named the baby.
- Yes, we are considering keeping the name she chose.
- No, we aren't announcing anything or posting pictures until we are certain this is our guy.
- No, we don't know how long we will be there.
- Yes, our blood pressure is through the roof.
- No, the kids are not calmly anticipating both possible outcomes.
- Yes, they are, instead, using sibling aggression and excessive questions to manage their conflicting feelings.
- Yes, Tom's driving has gotten worse.
- Yes, he's still a better driver than me.

We should arrive in a few hours, fly by the seat of our pants as we meet this girl and her babe for the first time, and discuss plans. I do not know how to prepare for the emotions that are coming, but I have decided its probably a bad idea to arrive sobbing. So, I am gonna try to hold that for the parking lot. Tom, however, doesn't care what anyone says... he's just committed to sobbing the whole time. Ain't no stoppin' Tom once he starts.

When People Fart on an Airplane it Feels a Little Like Terrorism

This might be the absolute worst flying experience I have had. It has been very turbulent... But not in the traditional sense.

While the Federal Airline Liquid Prohibitory Alliance has cracked down on bringing toiletries on board, they currently have no standing regulations on in-flight gas passing. I have discovered that a self-proclaimed hungover woman can noisily and clumsily board a plane, forewarn row-sharers that she will soon pass out, and then spend a solid two hours ripping toxic toots until other passengers want to go skydiving.

I seriously considered asking the flight attendant for just a hit or two from my oxygen mask, but then it got so bad I was sure that this was sort of bio-terrorism and even the oxygen mask wouldn't stop the slow and stinky death I was about to endure.

Finally the woman actually passed out, as promised. She inexplicably covered her whole entire head with a black scarf and just plopped face down into a cheetah pillow. I am a little worried about her oxygen flow inside that cheetah thing, but more than that... I am thankful for the fart-reprieve and the return of MY oxygen flow.

About Leaving a Family.

I have a secret fear that one day I will snap and totally abandon my family.

(Honey, if you are reading this - and you better be reading this - calm down, it's just a deep and irrational fear, I heart you and am not going anywhere. Hopefully my vow to stick around is good news.)

I know that I would rather die than leave my family. I know that I would rather be tortured Slumdog style than leave my family. I would rather impale my eye with a smoldering pretzel rod... you get the point. So, now that it's clear that I'm not looking to get outta dodge, and also that I have violent and disturbing thoughts on occasion, I am want to be open and honest about this fear.

I have known plenty of people who have done heinous and unexpected things to the people they love. I have faced my share of abuses at the hands (and mouths) of people who have claimed to love me. I have even been on the wicked and guilty end of sin situations as well... and I have hurt those I have truly loved. So, while I know I would never leave my family, I also know that we are all capable of terrible wrongdoing and, sadly, I have proved time and again that I am not the exception to this rule.

Still, I would not leave my family. Well, at least not for long. I am currently on an airplane right now headed to Portland, Oregon to be there with and for a dear friend who is about to welcome her second child, but her first baby girl, into the world. As I was leaving my baby girl, London informed me that she could not be happy or a good girl with me away, or "if you way" as she put it.

On my recent weekend trip to Washington DC for the Move:DC event, my friend Sam said something interesting to me, something along the lines of me being really good at being away. I know that she meant that I was able to leave my family and actually enjoy myself without being constantly worried about the kids or feeling guilty. I took it as a compliment, because it is a skill I am actually intentional about trying to cultivate: being engaged when I am with my kids, so I can be guilt-free and relaxed when I am apart from them. (Especially because these times are few and far between.)

Still, positive as I believe the remark was meant to be... it stirred in me a great reminder of this fear. What if I am good at being away because I am a leaver? What if I am closer to snapping and leaving than I think? What if wanderlust finally gets the better of me? What if I am the worst? What if the threat of a Slumdog beatdown can't even deter me?

This is when I need somebody to slap me really hard, or throw a drink in my face. This is when I need more Spanish soap opera stars in my life, ya know, someone who will get really irate and just shove me down a staircase.

I need a reminder that, yes, while better people have done worse, I am not going to leave my family. I think it is because I am so aware that I am capable of horrific crimes, like impaling someone's eye with a pretzel, that I am intentional in guarding my marriage and family life from those temptations. I think because I know that I could be a leaver, I have to cling to the grace of God. And only by His grace, and all the might and empowerment He stuffs into my soul, am I able to actively and purposefully become a stayer.

Except when my friend has a baby.

Then I go, but just for a bit. And knowing that my little girl can't be good or happy without me there is a great reminder to me about the effects of divorce on kids. I can clearly remember what it was like to feel like I lost the strength and know how to be happy, or a good girl, because somebody left.

I don't care how much we love our spouses or our kids or our lives... sometimes there comes a time when our wanderlust (or a different lust entirely) will call to us and promise something to us that will never be delivered. In those moments, I want to have this healthy fear of losing everything right in front of me...

This fearful knowledge that if I left, my babies would feel like they lost some of their own worth, some ability to muster the strength to be good girls and boys, and that they just couldn't be so happy "ifout me." And, perhaps, someone would also give me a big, fat shove down a winding staircase just in time to knock me back into reality.

I know that horrible things happen, and that every situation is different, and I am not judging any of those scenarios... I am simply saying that Sam was right. I am pretty good at being away, I catch up on reading, I listen to excellent jams, I chat with strangers and drink my coffee slowly and while it is still hot.

I savor each of these little gift-moments. And I do it (for the most part) without feeling guilty. I think that is because I know that I am not really leaving, I know that I am always fighting against any pull or lie that tells me to give up on my life. I know that I am choosing to be a stayer, and even if I am short of soap stars who will do it for me... By the supernatural grace of God, I believe I will gladly put a pretzel to the eye before I let myself be a leaver.