We moved into the new house.
Right now, you have your own shelf in the kitchen . . .
. . . we’re still setting up your room. But we’re going to take a little break to visit you for a few days.
It’s been another up and down week.
I talked with a court clerk about the court documents that would get you moved to us. She said they were signed, and moving through the system! Yea! So I sent your mommy an e-mail, with the good news.
Could be a matter of weeks, and you could be with us! Also, there’s a hearing scheduled next week concerning your birth mother. We’re trying to get ‘custodial care,’ of you . . . meaning the state is still in charge, but we get to take care of you. At the same time, we’re also trying to adopt you, so your name will be the same as ours. The hearing next week might move things along faster.
And then, a few hours after talking with the court clerk, I spoke to your social worker, and she said the paperwork wasn’t signed, and that the hearing might be delayed and everything was confused.
“Oh, help!” said Pooh. “I’d better go back.”
“Oh, bother!” said Pooh. “I shall have to go on.”
So, while we wait, we’re moving into the new house tomorrow. We’ll set up your room, first thing.
And while we wait, we’ll visit you next week. We’re flying down to see you, and we can hardly wait.
We’ve packed all of your things . . . your bed and blankets and clothes and toys, and little socks and gloves.
We’ve packed your bottles and pacifiers . . . although they are just plain pacifiers. I want to get you the pacifier that make it look like you have a moustache.
All of your things are packed and ready to go to your new house. And your own room.
We’re closing our part-time business, and moving to a new house . . . and boy it is a lot of phone calls, and e-mails, and talking to people, and packing, and driving and getting boxes and more packing, and trying to sell off the last of our merchandise, and we don’t care about anything else except having a baby. Having you come live with us. That’s all that matters.
We both have made plans at our work, to drop everything, fly off, and get you.
We’re taking off from work for months, first mommy, and then me, and if it works out right, then you won’t go to day care until the fall, when your mom goes back to work teaching school.
We’ve been buying and collecting baby items for a few months, now.
We didn’t tell our families about you until Thanksgiving and Christmas time. We don’t want to get everyone hopes up, and then be heartbroken and disappointed if we never get you. Some family members were more excited than others. I can’t really blame them. Your mom is 45, and I’m 47, and we’re going to be old parents.
But no parents have ever loved their little girl as much as we love you.
We bought a baby carrier just the other night. Your mom and I took turns strapping it on ourselves, and pretending we were carrying you around.
We’re getting the house ready for you . . . the Pack & Play playpen has been set up for nearly a week, and we’re getting more furniture soon.
Actually, we looked at buying a different house to raise you in. But then, we backed out, when we learned we might not get you.
This past week, we’ve looked at another house . . . we’re going to buy this house because it will be warmer for you, and you’ll have your own room. It’s a better neighborhood, and you’ll be able to walk to school. It even has a swimming pool.
I look forward to teaching you how to swim.