Sitting down to write right now feels a little bit like an awkward first date with a guy I’ve already dated before. Like that episode in Season 5 of Gilmore Girls when Luke & Lorelai get back together, and they have to keep reassuring each other, “We know how to do this. Yeah, we’re good at this. We’ve done this before.”
It’s not that I don’t know how to write — I’m actually really good at this. I think. It’s just that my life is so different now, and I’m SO. FREAKING. TIRED. all the time, and I have new mom brain which NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT, where you all of a sudden don’t remember anything and your mind moves, on a good day, at about 58% of the rate you’re used to from your previous, lots-of-brain-space, slept-through-the-night life.
Oh, and everything you eat or drink is room temperature because sure, it was probably either hot or cold once, but you forgot about it, so this is your life now. 72 degree everything.
None of this has anything to do with what I’m actually sitting down to write about, but since I’m re-learning how to do this, an anecdote to ease the tension.
Actually, now that I’m really thinking about it, it kind of has everything to do with what I’m sitting down to write about. Here’s the thing: on November 5, 2016, I was just the same Sara I’d always been — childless. And then on November 6, I received a phone call that I was going to have a daughter in oh, say, 3 weeks. (Insert jazz hands and lots of tears and all the dancing here.)
Most people get 9 months, y’all. And of course, it’s true that we waited and fought for this for Y-E-A-R-S, so technically we had a lot of time, but 3 weeks to wrap your head around the reality of that kind of life change is a little bit overwhelming, to say the very-very-very least. So what do you do? Well, we Gilmores happen to thrive amidst the chaos, so you know — when life sends a tempest, grab anything that floats and just keep swimming.
Enter: 3 weeks of absolute madness. Finished furnishing a nursery. (Actually, first I went to Nashville — praise the Lord — but then I finished the nursery.) Called all the moms for all the crash course help because who has time for books at a time like this?
At one point during those 3 weeks there was like $10K we still needed to cover some unforeseen birth mom expenses, and it literally just got handed to us by people in our community in one day. (What!?)
Packed a bag for Phoenix immediately after we found out we were matched, because I’m a planner and always prepared. HA! False. I frantically called my friend Kate 3 hours before I had to be at the airport on November 30, who is (1) a mom and (2) a planner, and I’m pretty sure all I said was, “Help. Come. I need all the things. Bring the things.”
I was in the middle of a photo shoot for our Christmas Eve marketing campaign for church that morning when our case worker called to tell me it was time to get to Phoenix cause this baby is coming today. “Aaaaaand that’s a wrap! Surely one of those 5 shots we got in this 3 minutes will work. Merry Christmas, everybody. I have to go have a baby now. Well, not me — er — see ya.”
And then 3 hours later, Noland and I are boarding a plane to Phoenix and we don’t know when we’re coming back, because interstate adoption paperwork has to clear, blah blah — point is we left with one way tickets in the middle of a work day and we were coming back on some mystery day hopefully before Christmas, with a small human.
And then I looked up and it was May.
My whole life has been flipped upside down in the best and hardest way, and there are so many things I’ve been meaning to “process by pen” as my friend Melissa says, here for all of you to follow along with.
But the sleepless nights and the room temperature coffee and the mom brain.
So here I am, just wanting to drop a note to tell you that I can’t wait to catch up. The thing is, when I catch up with you, I catch up with me, too. Writing helps me see and know myself. Which is probably why I’ve felt a little bit like I’ve floated through the last few months in a bit of a fog, in some ways.
I can’t wait to tell you a few more of the Ellie Joy miracle stories, in addition to the birth story I already shared here. I can’t wait to process what it’s been like to still be unpacking grief in the presence of such sweet fulfillment and joy, to tell you about how I’m really wrestling through feeling sidelined in my work, to share what I’m learning about being WHOLE after some really traumatic and broken years, and to talk about how I’m getting to know my husband all over again — he’s a dad! Who is this man?
So let’s think of this post as a bit of spring cleaning. Cleaning out the cobwebs. Reminding and/or reassuring you that I still live here.
Next week we’ll make our way back to the deep end. I sure have missed this place.