Broken

What do you do when you're broken...again? Have a good cry for a minute, talk it out, and then dust yourself off and get back at it again...

The Man-Version is Always Less Majestic

She’s right; her hair was rather “big.” But that wasn’t entirely her fault. Of the few things I do remember about that day (and this is because I have THE worst short term memory, and not because it wasn’t the most magical day ever) I remember that it was particularly windy for being downtown. I mean, usually the skyscrapers will block most of the gusts depending on which way they are headed, but this time, my new found friend was getting one in the face and her hair was…a loft. But that didn’t stop me from remembering or knowing that there was something special about this girl.

Now, Jamie and others will say that I give the best hugs. But the truth is, I hadn’t been that much of a hugger up to that point. Hugs were always an awkward past time, with having to bend over or awkwardly hug people with their face to my belly button all the time. Jamie was tall[er] and this was going to be a good hug. She made it possible, not me. From that moment and many moments from then on, I came quick to judge others based on their hugs (and I hug a lot of people now). I could just tell immediately that she had a lot of love to give someone. It wasn’t too much and it wasn’t tender or fragile, it was like a familiar warm blanket, it was like I had known her my whole life. I think most importantly, though this is something men would be quick to deny they need, I felt safety; I felt confident that this woman would never hurt me. Now that’s a lot to get out of a small moment with a supposed horrible memory, but as I began writing this post, I was pleased that it all started coming back.

We spoke a lot in the car, and we spoke, laughed, and made eye contact a lot at dinner. I was continuing to do a lot of things that I had struggled with in the past. I don’t want to say I wasn’t struggling or fighting to make sure that I did everything right, but I remember being at ease. I remember feeling intrigued and desperate to know more.  We were at Buca Di Beppo, and we both had also just tried the Purple Pear for the first time. Perhaps those two things cast a love spell. I can’t be sure, to be honest.

I’m not going to talk a whole lot about the soccer game because I did that at that game. It was a lot of fun to answer questions about something I have been passionate about for years. She seemed really into everything I was saying and perhaps that helped to build the confidence in me to keep going. After the game, we got into Cold Stone just as they were closing. We sat out on the porch in the summer night and just talked.  That was when I started truly falling for her. It wasn’t when (I forgot to mention I held her hand and we snugged at the soccer game) we held hands for the first time, it was when I saw her eyes light up as she does anytime she explains something to anyone. She begins with “So…” and takes a breath with a smile. I was pretty sure, that as she began talking about something silly like rocks or geology or something, that I was falling in love. This was magnified when she allowed me to belt “Lady” by Styx, while changing the “Lady” to “Jamie,” and it only grew when we held hands prior to singing “Benny and the Jets” in unison, while cruising State. I’ll let Jamie divulge what happened next if she so desires, but just know that was one of the greatest nights of my life. And yes, we have the ticket to the RSL game framed in my RSL man cave. What now?

Love the Process

Dear Birthmom,

I've been thinking about you this morning. And I've been thinking a lot about fears, and how we can conquer them. If I could talk to you this morning, here's what I'd say...

Love, Jamie

Dreaming

I've been really hesitant to talk about my dreams of our missing piece.  Right now...this whole part of the process I feel strongly that it ISN'T about us. It's about our birthmom...whoever she is, where ever she is. She needs love and support. Our job is to be here to cheer her on!

Sometimes I'm human, I do cave and catch myself dreaming...what if we were having a baby?  I see moms-to-be, with their cute baby bumps, and wonder if I'd look cute with one.  Steve lately has me thinking about nurseries "hey...let's look at cribs!" or "hey, let's explore the baby section at Target" or "hey, let's decorate our spare room for our baby, you know...just in case".  I wonder what it would be like to go to doctor appointments in anticipation for getting to see a little person growing in my belly.

I think mostly I just dream about the day that a sweet little babe will be snuggling in my arms. And that's all that matters to me. The only dream. I don't need a baby bump. I don't need a fancy crib. I don't need to see an ultrasound. All of that would be great...but I don't need it. The path to our baby will be uniquely special...and I'm okay with that.

GIVE

Dear Birthmom,

I think that sometimes people get the notion or have the misconception that adoption means giving up.

But that's just not the case! So much is given!

A birthmother gives her body for nine months. She gives life. She gives a child a family. She give unconditional love. She gives strength. She gives hope. She gives a part of her heart that will never feel whole. She gives another mother a part of her heart that was always missing.

You give a lot Birthmom. Never give up.

Love,
Jamie

I've Been Looking For You...

Back to our regularly scheduled love story...

July 9th, 2011. The DATE. I remember it like yesterday. The summer sun whipping my face as I drove up to Salt Lake in the stifling heat...my little grey car didn't have air conditioning. I remember worrying that I was going to be a melted mess by the time I got there and all that time I spent getting cute was probably for naught (I even remember what I was wearing...shorts, and a billowy blue shirt). I arrived at the designated spot (the parking lot at the building where I worked) a little early...thankfully allowing me some time to run to the bathroom to mop myself up. I remember looking in the mirror and praying "Please, don't let me mess this up...there's something about this boy that I REALLY like!"

Hoping my pounding heart would return to a normal beat, I gathered my courage and returned to the parking lot, only to spot a 6'8 towering frame coming towards me. "Jamie!?" called a familiar voice across the lot. It was HIM. Finally, to be able to put a face with the voice I knew very well by this point. And wow...was he TALL (and very cute)!  I don't remember what he said/what I said...but I do remember he gave me a big hug...and that I needed to stand on my tip toes to receive it. (I asked Steve what he remembers about this moment, he remembers that my hair looked really big...HA!).  

There were only two cars in the lot...his and mine. I almost laughed when I saw his. A tiny blue Toyota Yaris. "How do you fit in this thing!?" was probably my attempt at breaking the ice. 

As we drove to dinner, the car was filled with quietness. I remember him telling me before we met that he was hard to initally break into in-person. Internally I started to slightly panic, hoping that he would be the same in boy I knew from over the phone. "I've been looking for you...and don't you worry, by the end of the night I'm going to break into you Stephen Haslam" I said out loud, and gave him a big smile. I felt the fear melt away, and knew that I was in for a good night...

The Choice

I spent a few days with my sister and her cute family last weekend. I'm not going to lie...she has some of the cutest babies around. They are my favorite little people and I'm pretty lucky to be their Aunt Mimi. We played horsey, went swimming, read storybooks at bed time, and snuggled in the morning. 

One of the days of my visit, my sister and I drove to my grandma's house and spent the whole day with her.  In the morning we went to a women's conference being held in town and got to hear  Stephanie Nielsen speak. If you don't know Stephanie's story...well...it's pretty inspirational. She survived a plane crash, in which she was burned on over 80% of her body. Stephanie spoke of how she came back from such an apparent tragedy in her life...  

"Each night I pray for the strength to be able to accept whatever comes my way. I ask God to bless my heart to help us handle hard times, sickness, pain, frustration, and trials--which are inevitable in this mortal life, but particularly my mortal life. I have faith that God is in charge, and that He knows what is best for me and my family. I am grateful for my trails, they make me stronger and more resilient. Of course I hate the pain I feel, the hurt I experience, but I am the author of my own life and happiness and I choose the brighter way."

I love her attitude! We can choose how we respond to any situation in life. We can be mad. We can curse. We can yell "THIS ISN'T FAIR...why me!?"...OR we can take what life hands us, and choose the light over the darkness. We can choose to have faith, move forward, become stronger, and choose happiness.


I could be really mad/curse/yell "THIS ISN'T FAIR...why me!?" at this trial, and that I don't have my own little people to play horsey/swim/read storybooks with at bed time/snuggle in the morning. Or I could choose happiness. I choose the happiness route! Right now, I get the chance to be an awesome aunt...and practice for the time when I get to be a mom! 

Maybe you're reading this birth mom? Maybe you're going through a hard time? Remember...you can choose! You can choose happiness!