I'm sorry if this is  getting old but I  miss my cat  so much.  I've been feeling very sad about it.  I just can't believe she's gone and she's never coming back.  I know this sounds stupid but I feel like somebody in my family died. She was our baby for 18 years and now she's gone.  There have been a lot of tearful nights around here in the last week and a half.  Between my uncle and my cat I have been feeling very melancholy.  I know it will get better as time goes on. It's just so hard right now. Grief is so exhausting.

On a happier note,summer is over and the kids have gone back to school, which means we can finally start using our Disney passes again.  Tonight we are headed to a special showing(for annual passholders only) of The World of Color at the CA Adventure park. I can't wait.  From what I have seen, it's spectacular.

I don't think I'm going to bring my camera so here are some pictures I found on the internet:

It looks so cool.  I'll let you know how it was.

Goodbye Kitty

She didn't come back and I am heartbroken.  I know we were lucky to have her for 18 years.  I know she lived a long, good life.  But I miss her and I wish I could have her back.  She is a part of our family and now our family is incomplete.

Goodbye Kitty.  We love you and miss you.

**she started with a name but over the years we had taken to calling her just "kitty".

Patience

On Sunday we went to a Fourth of July block party.  It was at a friend's house.  This is the second year in a row that we have spent there and we had a great time.

At the same time it can be a little sad.

There were kids.  Tons and tons of kids. Adorable kids. Riding bikes, having water balloon tosses, eating cupcakes.  Doing, you know, kid stuff.

I swear we were the only people there without kids. O.K., that's highly unlikely, but it felt that way.

Lately I have been feeling like maybe we could be o.k. if we didn't have kids.  I mean, we've made it 21 and a half years together (yikes!!) without them, right?  At times I convince myself that we don't need to have kids, but if the adoption eventually pans out then that would be great too.

Then we go to a block party on Fourth of July and  that we-don't-have-to-have-kids mentality comes to a screeching halt.

There's something that we have gotten into the habit of doing whenever we are around a bunch of kids.

We scope out the most adorable children, usually about 1 or 2 years old and we nudge each other and say "Look at that one.  Isn't he(or she) cute?"  Then we smile sadly at each other and usually Joe reaches for my hand and we sigh.  We will do this many times throughout an event.

Yesterday after doing it to an especially beautiful little girl I turned to Joe and said "Do you think we will ever stop doing that?"  He  smiled and said "Yes.  After we have our daughter". (His absolute faith that this is going to happen one day astounds me at times).

I was leafing through a magazine the yesterday and I saw this quote:

Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses and disappointments; but let us have patience and we soon shall see them in their proper figures.  
                                                                            -Joseph Addison

It really struck a chord with me.  As soon as I read it I thought to myself "Please let this be true".  We have gotten pretty good at being patient, I think.  About a lot of things.  I believe that we are learning and growing with each pain, loss, and disappointment.  I believe we will come through each of those better people, who are more adept at handling conflict and hard times.  I just hope in terms of this adoption our patience pays off in the end.

I didn't mean for this post to be a downer.  It's just that most of the time I am protecting my heart by telling myself I will be o.k if it doesn't happen, but then an event like a block party makes me realize that maybe I'm  fooling myself.

Lest you think that all we do at parties is feel sad, here's something else we do.

Often after pointing out a particularly beautiful child to one another, Joe will say
"Look at that one. She's cute"
Me: "Yes, she is stunning"
Joe:  "You distract the Mom and I'll grab her and run".
Me: "Yes, she's the perfect age. She'll barely remember her parents after 6 months or so"
Joe: "O.K., you go get the car"

And then we laugh.

We're joking people. Really. Don't alert the authorities.  :)

1 year

1 year ago today we lost our Tess.

I still miss her so much. Sometimes I think it is not normal for me to still miss her this much. I thought we would have another dog by now. I still feel like maybe a small part of the empty place in my heart would be filled with the love for another dog. I think I have been waiting for some sort of sign and there just hasn't been one. I scour the internet rescue sites, as well as the animal shelters and craig's list, hoping one will jump out at me or "speak" to me. But it hasn't happened. There have been a few that caught my eye, but Joe wasn't sure. I think that is really what is keeping us from getting one. We just can't agree. He wants a puppy. I want an older dog. I want a big dog(we already have a small dog). He wants a "medium sized dog". He wants a dog with short hair. I am open to any length hair. We did have a Lab whose shedding was out of control and it was a pain, so I can see his reasoning there. What he really wants is either an English Bulldog puppy or another Viszla puppy. Besides not being able to afford either of these, a Viszla puppy is pretty much out of the question due to the fact that they are extremely hyper until the age of 5 and we live in an apartment. Our Tess had a large yard during her puppy years and was almost 7 years old before we moved her into an apartment. I have checked the English Bulldog rescue sites(repeatedly)and they either don't have any puppies, or they are very strict about where they place the dogs. They don't allow other dogs in the home, or children(most times), and they often won't place in an apartment. So I guess we'll just continue with the one dog for now. I told myself that it was for the best, as we were going to have a child here eventually and 1 dog is certainly easier than 2. But as time goes by I realize I have put so much of my life on hold because of this adoption. Realistically, we have another 2 year wait ahead of us and I'm tired of living my life on hold. I want to live it.

If you were here....

Hey Mom.

It's me.

Today is your birthday. Happy Birthday!

If you were here, I'd come over and we'd go shopping.

If you were here, I'd bring you flowers. Carnations. Because those were your favorites.

If you were here I'd bake you one of my famous(heh) triple decker chocolate cakes and you would have to inject more insulin just so you could have a piece!

If you were here we would all go out to dinner to celebrate.

But you're not here and it feels like you've been gone for a very long time. I guess eleven years is a very long time, but it feels longer.

So I guess we'll just stay home and do nothing but light a candle and think about how much we wish you were here.

Miss you.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Me

I miss this...........


















Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to have this:


















But I really miss her...........

I had a bad day. Some days are like that. I woke up in a funk. I cried on the way to work listening to Christmas music. I love Christmas. But it makes me sad. Why is that? I screwed up at work. A couple of times. It's no big deal, but it didn't help my state of mind. I cried again on the phone with Joe at lunch. I'm feeling pretty emotional today. Maybe it's the post vacation blues. There is something else that is bothering me. I have gone back and forth on whether I should post about it or not. I don't want to hurt any one's feelings, and if you haven't been through the pain of infertility you just won't get it. Oh well. Here goes anyway. Before we started the adoption, and right before we decided not to go any further with infertility treatments, I joined an infertility support group. I have mentioned it before. Through that group I met four wonderful women who have become my friends. We try to meet at least every couple of months to catch up. Out of the four of us, two became pregnant. I could not be happier for them. That left two of us still trying to start a family. While we chose adoption, the other girl pursued IFV. Many, many times, all with heartbreaking results. She and her husband talked about adoption, but nothing was concrete. Over the weekend I received an e-mail from her. In her e-mail was a picture of her beautiful newborn son that they had adopted domestically. I am so happy for her and her husband. I truly am. They went through so much and I am so glad to see them happy. But at the same time I am sad. Out of the five original girls that were in the group, only one of them does not have their baby at home with them. Guess which one. That would be me. It is so disheartening. We started our adoption process a year and a half before they did. And we are nowhere near having our baby home. Nowhere near. I thought giving up on the infertility treatments and pursuing adoption was the plan God had for us. I really did. And now I'm not so sure. I have so many doubts. Not only can I not get pregnant, I can't even choose an adoption plan where I have my child home in less than three years. Somehow I feel like a failure. I didn't want to be the last one standing. Although I wouldn't have wished it on anyone else, I didn't want it to be me. Why am I always last? Why do we have to wait so long? Will this ever really happen? So many questions, and no answers. I feel so guilty for even thinking this way. I am happy for each and every one of my friends that have been able to start their families. Is it possible to be happy for someone and still be sad for yourself? I hope so. Because I am sad. Very sad. I'm going to take a bubble bath and climb into bed. It's hard to feel sad when you are asleep, right?

P.S. T-I know you read this occasionally. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. I am so, so happy for you. He is so beautiful and I can't wait to meet him. I know if anyone can understand how I'm feeling, you can.

Eleven Years

What's left to say that hasn't already been said. Eleven long years, yet it seems like only yesterday that you were here. Eleven years ago my life changed forever. Eleven years I have been without a Mom. What's left to say. I miss you Mom. Every. Single. Day. Eleven years. If you are reading this and you are able, go hug your Mom. You are lucky to have her. So very lucky.

Isn't it Ironic.

We just received the packet from my husband's new Health Insurance Plan with explanation of coverage. Does anyone else see the irony in the fact that his new insurance covers 90 percent of the cost of IVF? (After carrying him on my plan for fourteen years that covered not one cent of infertility treatments and three months after I have a hysterectomy). Still not feeling thankful. I will tomorrow. I promise. (Oh, and having ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife is not ironic. I'm just sayin').

Tess 1993-2007

Goodbye sweet girl. We love you.