The Case for Skipping Church

I went to church last week for the first time in months, probably the first time since New Jersey. And it will be a place I will not be going back to for a while.

While I sat there, my mind wandered to the last time I was in church. To every week that I was in church over the last five years. I thought about how I prayed. And how praying became wishing, and wishing became hoping, and hoping became begging, and begging became pleading, and pleading became making ridiculous deals to sell my soul.

And the bitter barren woman inside of me came out. And I was miserable and couldn't wait for the 45 minutes to be over. And my mood carried over several days, and only ended with a trip to McDonald's for a Happy Meal, under a blanket, in cold, rainy, dreary weather.

The next day the sun was out. I had had some greasy food and was good for a while.

As Lesley says, like any good relationship, sometimes you need a break.

And I need a break. And so when fall kicks in, as is my usual time to become a good, Catholic girl and regular church goer, this year I will not be heading back to church.

I think the big guy will understand.

Summer's Over

I love my job, but I'm feeling completely over-whelmed right now. I want the day to go by without anyone calling me, emailing me, or needing me. I had one day like that and I got sooo much accomplished. Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, and I ended up being in the office for five hours.

I love my friends. And their kids, but I'm done with Facebook for the week. Done with the pictures of everyone's child going back to school, holding up signs as to what grade their in, waiting for the bus. Over reading my friends lament about how quickly their children are growing up and how it is possible that little Hoosey is in the 5th grade.

And so summer's over, and with the beginning of fall, I got a case of the crankies.

Going Back Home, Babies, and the Last Box

I headed home to Ithaca this weekend, to meet Laila and Emily -- babies born four days apart to two of my dearest friends. These lucky girls were the recipients of all the baby stuff in my house before I packed and moved.

It was a whirl-wind weekend of holding babies and having them sleep in my arms, going out for drinks with former work friends, getting frozen yogurt in a Porsche, and celebrating Hope's birthday in exactly the way we would have if I still lived there -- Hope, Heather and me at Viva.

Saturday afternoon with Emily...

 the yumminess that is the "pancake" shot -- Jameson's and Butterscotch Schnapps, followed by a shot of orange juice. De-lish!

...and Monday morning with Laila.











At Emily's "welcome to the world" party on Sunday, her grandmother hugged me tight and said, "you'll have this too someday." And right then, I knew. "No I won't." And I won't. I said I wouldn't make a final decision for a year -- and I won't -- but I think I know in my heart, that I don't want to be a 43-year-old single mother to an infant.

It hurt to say good-bye to Emily, and hurt to stay there and continue to stare at her beautiful face. And when Jill's cousin hugged me and said, "this must have been such a hard day for you," it was nice to have someone acknowledge that it was. I hadn't thought about it being hard, but it was.

And so I got out of there, and took a shower back at the hotel, and washed the day away, and waited for a friend to come visit me. We went for a ride in his Porsche and got frozen Greek yogurt with Reese's Pieces and rainbow sprinkles on top.

And when I went to see Laila the next day, there was much less hoopla, much less "all about the baby" talk, and it was very enjoyable, even as I put her in the sleeper rocker that I had bought for New Jersey.

In a lot of ways the weekend was too short -- I didn't get to see everyone. And it was too long -- I'll just leave it at that.

Today, on my bonus day off in PA, I finished unpacking. Finally. I didn't think I would need my over-the-toilet shelf I had in Ithaca, but with a two-bedroom apartment, one does not get the storage space of a two-bedroom townhouse, and so my former neighbor got it out of my place in Ithaca and I picked it up this weekend. My bathroom is "my bathroom" again. 


And I was stretched to the limit with my organizational skills, but once again, came out ahead. The closet doors in the second bedroom close, there is a space big enough to buy a full-sized futon for guests (though I had hoped for an actual queen-sized bed), and all the boxes are unpacked. The very last box, which I will use to send a proper baby gift to my friend Kim in Georgia.

Happy birthday, America.

I spent the day doing very American things -- I worked out this morning (more on that later), laid in the sun and took a dip in the pool (my new favorite thing to do on days off), shopped at Target, made peanut butter and jelly for lunch, watched the Yankees on the MLB Network, and took a nap.

I've really been enjoying the pool at my new complex. I'm using SPF 30-50 and limited myself to 90-120 minutes a day. Slow and steady, I might actually get a tan this summer. Either that or my freckles will just join together to give the appearance of a tan.

I started Jillian Michaels Body Revolution on Sunday. It is kicking my ass. It's kind of like P90X, but I'm guessing not quite as intense. Although, I will say that after the first two workouts, my inner thighs were sore. We'll see where things are in 90 days.

The apartment is slowly shaping up. And I bought a bird feeder for Casey today. I'm hoping that a little more nature activity on the patio will lift her spirits. It's tough moving when you're 16, and I'm not quite sure she's loving the new homestead.

I'm looking forward to weekend visitors this month and next -- some girlfriends coming to visit and we can really do up Doylestown.

Work is going great. I'm busy, and energized, and already feel like I'm making a difference. This week, I published my first blog post about the work my office is doing.

Well, Hello There

Hi....remember me? I know I've been a bad blogger of late. I will try to summarize that last month of craziness.

May 6 -- ran a 5K in DC, drover to Doylestown that night, sweaty and smelly. This is an important date because it was pretty much the last time I had a "Laurie-style" workout

May 7 -- clean and showered, met with the president one more time. As I was driving home, got the call with the job offer.

May 8 -- gave my notice at IC, did not go over well

May 9 -- formally accepted the position after some slight negotiations

May 10 -- told the staff I was leaving

From that point, it was starting to pack, starting to purge, finding a place to live long-distance. The baby's room was the toughest. Jill came over and went through a bunch of stuff. Some things I held onto, others I left her choose if she wanted it or we put it in the Molly pile. And some stuff, I specifically wanted her baby to have from me. Two nights later, Molly came over and got the rest of the stuff and about 40-50 packs of diapers and wipes. And I will tell you that that night was the best night's sleep I had gotten in a long time.

It didn't last, because just as quickly as there was baby closure (for now), there were spinning thoughts about wrapping up projects, being included on emails at the new job and trying to figure it all out. My farewell to Ithaca tour started about two weeks after I gave my notice, two weeks before my last day.

There were lunches. There were dinners. There were drinks. Memorial Day weekend, I pretty much packed all I could pack and still live in my house for another two weeks.

It was sad to say good-bye to people, and in most cases, I didn't. I'm going back in a couple weeks to meet the babies that were born after I left. And so I didn't say good-bye, just farewell.

A few highlights of my farewell party on campus, and the farewell tour:

Me in my party dress for my party day

I couldn't have asked for better teams -- the MCMs (top) and Sports Information. 

They, along with a few others, made it very very hard to leave.

My awesome co-directors being photo-bombed. 

Hope and Heather 

(and Tina in the background, annoyed that someone snapped a photo of her)

How awesome is this cake! Baseball on top, my new athletic logo on the second layer and the newly implemented logo at IC, with a mini-me made of Rice Krispies and fondant.

With Jen, the proprietress of Ithacake, the amazingly awesome cake lady who made the above cake. Not only with love, not only with sentiment, but yummy too.

With Claudia, who doesn't believe in willy-nilly hugging, only when appropriate. Moving away falls into that "life changing event" where hugging is appropriate.

Next up: Life in PA, and fitting a two-bedroom townhouse into a two-bedroom apartment

Not giving up.....just moving forward

As I'm getting close to five years on this journey to be somebody's mom, I've been trying to grasp the difference between giving up, moving on and accepting.

Five years ago, I thought that trying to have a baby on my own meant giving up on finding my "person." What I've come to realize over these years is that I already have a "person" -- and my person comes in the form of many people. Lesley. Jill. Kris. Jenny.

Not exactly what I had in mind when I thought about that one person -- but I am so lucky and grateful that I don't get just one person.

Through my baby track -- whether IF or adoption -- they have been supportive, caring cheerleaders. And then things shifted. Door after door closed. And then finally a window opened.

I peaked through half-heartedly, and then finally all in. In February, when I was still getting through my Takisha turmoil, a friend and former colleague told me about a job opening at his college. I applied at the time because that was the only way I could change my mind. If I didn't want it, I could say no thanks. But if I didn't apply and I did want it, it would be too late.

And with each step along the way -- phone interview, on-campus interview, follow-up phone calls and emails, follow-up on-campus interview -- I got more and more excited. 

While it's scary, it's also exciting. After eight years, I'm leaving Ithaca for Doylestown, PA. After three years of IF and 13 fertility treatments, after 24 months on the ETH wait list, after 12 months with my domestic adoption attorney, I'm moving on.

Not giving up.

I'm going to focus on my new job. My new life. I'm going to take tennis lessons. I'm going to paint pottery. I'm going to rebrand an amazing little college in a beautiful part of Pennsylvania. I'm going to force myself to eat out by myself and talk to people. And being only 40 minutes from Phillly, I'm going to baseball games.

We'll see where I am in six months. Nine months. Twelve months.

I get a do-over. I get a fresh start. Right now that excitement is over-riding any sadness for leaving my home of the last eight years, my campus family, my circle of friends.

The nervousness I feel over my new job -- that awesome combination of oh-so-excited and terror that makes you know your heart is still beating -- is over-riding any trepidation I have about packing up or giving away the baby stuff.

Anything I bought in the last year has gone to my expectant friend, to a garage sale, to Craigslist.

The things I've been buying and holding onto all these years, including the Derek Jeter t-shirt I bought in 1998, will stay with me. Packed away and hopefully to be pulled out someday.

I've done all I can to make my dream come true. And in that time, I've lived in limbo. No long-range plans because I might be pregnant, I might have to go to Africa, I might have a baby.

Now I get to make a new dream, a new life. I get to not worry about pinching pennies because I need to save for the adoption. I can plan a vacation/trip -- and not just driving to Richmond to visit my brother and his family. I can buy a house.

I'm going to work my ass off the next six to 12 months getting acclimated to my new job and all I have to accomplish, but I'll be in charge. I won't be at the mercy of my uterus, the Ethiopian government or some crazy bitch in New Jersey.

Here's to my new life, one step at a time.

Baby Steps

All I have to do is take one baby step at a time, and I can do anything.

Wordless Wednesday: 10K Finish

Happy Opening Day!

I had a whirlwind trip to Baltimore, there for less than 48 hours. I did a little shopping, saw some of my favorite people, and oh yea, went to a baseball game!

With my BFF Lesley and my former "work husband" Johnnie Z. Do me a favor and watch this trailer for the sports documentary made by Barry Levinson -- it's all about John. Or the trailer for "Being Elmo," (right at the :30 mark) -- yup John Ziemann again. Johnnie Z is amazing, and I am so luck to have him in my life.

Yes, I'm smoking a cigar. It's an Opening Day tradition and one I was happy to pick up again, my first Opening Day since 2004.

Look at how perfectly green the grass is, how perfectly blue the sky is. It was such a great day for baseball!

I was hoping for a Matt Wieters t-shirt, but I was pretty happy with my retro, distressed cartoon bird.

When I first moved to Baltimore and saw a t-shirt with this fellow on it, I thought he was the "Mr. Pringle Guy." I was quickly corrected that he is Natty Boh, as in National Bohemian beer. I never made that mistake again.

Another Update

Guess who is not moving forward with an adoption plan? Guess who says now that she has had him home for over a month, she cannot give him up?

Exactly. I had been second-guessing myself in walking away a couple weeks ago, but after speaking with Debbie today and learning that Takisha is not moving forward, I know I did the right thing. I can't imagine that after the four or five weeks the court stuff would have taken, she would have been able to relinquish him to me. And so it goes.

I told Debbie that I'm not ready to be proactive yet, but if she has a situation come up that is appropriate for me, I would be willing to hear it.

And I guess at some point, I will have to unpack from New Jersey. Right now, there are bags, diapers, stroller, car seat and bassinet in the middle of the floor in the second bedroom. Right where I dumped it all at the end of the January.


I try to keep the door closed, but Casey has other ideas. Every morning, I hear her push open the door (it doesn't latch tight) and go lay on the rug. Or I'll get home at night and the door will be open, alerting me to the fact that she has been in there while I was at work.