I wish I had news to report, or some new photos to share, but I don't. It's just me and my tired thoughts late at night. I feel the need to write about my baby boy, even if they are just rambling thoughts. Some days are like that for me. I just need to write and I don't really know WHY until after I've written.
I keep thinking about Bright. [I know, big surprise there.] Some days I think I will go crazy waiting for him to come home, and other days I feel very calm about the whole thing and somehow find patience. Sometimes I want to "jump off of the cliff" and fill the house with baby boy things, but most of the time these days I am still to scared to let myself go only to be disappointed once again. Oh how I pray I won't have to mourn another child during this adoption journey.
Mostly, I daydream about Bright. I think about how big (or rather, small!) he probably is. I imagine myself walking up to Mama Eugenia when I get to take him home--I see her broad smile and in my imagination I am always taken aback by how tiny and beautiful my Brighton is. I think about what it will be like during the day to day with our newest son. Just tonight the four of us were all watching a movie on TV--all sitting on the couch together. I had a vision of Bright sitting in my lap, making our four into five.
It's funny the things that I allow myself to daydream about in comparison with the things that I can't yet daydream about or plan for without getting that "icky" feeling like I'm setting myself up for disappointment. I can think about what it will be like to be united with him all day long, but I can't bring myself to think about how we're going to set up the bedrooms. Huh?! What is THAT about? And what about the baby boy clothes that I already have sitting in boxes in my bedroom. Why can't I go ahead and unpack those? No cost involved there. But that is where my heart draws the line. I just can't go "there." Oh Lord I just can't wait for the day that I actually AM there, with our sweet Brighton in our home, with a bed and clothes and poopy diapers and all!
Thanks for letting me ramble about my boy.