the space between hope and fear

A few weeks ago I woke up nervous. A feeling I've had more than a few times, a feeling I have when I'm going to a fertility appointment. This particular day was a follow up - of sorts. We were going to talk about possibilities of why the last round didn't work and what my steps were for further treatment.

I opened my mailbox before getting in my car and there is was. Our certification letter. The letter that says "Congratulations! You've been certified as acceptable to adopt a child..." We've waited for this letter for weeks (months...years...my whole life?) and I just... laughed. Hysterically laughed and laughed and then, of course, cried.

As my record would go, I sat across from my Doctor as he told me what treatment to try "and if  that doesn't work we'll try this" and on and on, and I felt so unbelievably overwhelmed. A grasp raised in my throat and I fought back tears, different tears than the tears earlier that day.

I got in the car and called my sister. I told her what my Dr said, I cried, I told her how I was feeling. Then I said "we got our letter this morning." She said "Kate, your voice changes when you talk about adoption." And it does. Completely and wholly changes. I feel calm. And loved. And heard. And patient. And willing. And everything I want to feel.

And all those feelings combined, every single one of those wonderful, heartbreaking feelings, tells me that this is that path that is right for our family. Man oh man oh man, I cannot wait.

Find us soon, baby, my arms feel heavy without you.