I'm Freaking Out.

1) We have decided for sure for sure for sure that we are adopting from Ethiopia!!!!!!!

2) We have been freaking about the cost of it (approx. $30,000 total) but not freaking out too bad because we knew that if God put the desire to adopt in our hearts, He would provide a way.

3) Random and amazing friend came to us a month ago and said the following (warning: you might pee your pants)
"I want to help raise the money for your adoption"

4) GOD IS FAITHFUL

5) This random and amazing friend, Chris, is doing just that....and it is incredible to see God beginning to provide a way to bring our little one home to us.

6) Why am I posting? Because it is ALL that I can think about.. all day.. and night.. well, actually that is a lie, because at night I am either sleeping or trying really hard to remember the ridiculous thing that Scott said or did in his sleep (yes, he is one of those...and it is hilarious)

That is all. If you want to be a part of bringing the first baby Zibell home, just message me your email or comment it on here and I can send you what Chris sent out.

We are getting so close to this thing actually happening, I can almost feel it!

Let's Dance, the Last Dance Tonight

Oh Donna Summer. I didn't really know you until you were regurgitated into a dance mix for So You Think You Can Dance.... One day, my kids are going to talk about my Justin Timberlake like that. Like he hardly existed. So sad.

Tonight is the night. Our last night sleeping in our first home. Hold please, I need to go turn on some sad music to get in the mood here. Carrie Underwood? Check. Take that wheel Jesus.

So, to answer your question, yes. I'm sad. I'm nostalgic. I'm feeling a twinge of regret. So, I am going to do what any normal person would do when they are filled with all of the emotions of saying goodbye to a home that is filled with so many memories.

Rip it to pieces. That's right. It's really the only way I can justify leaving. I mean, it just makes sense.

Now I sound like an unfaithful spouse. And having said that sounds like I went to too much counseling as a child. There may not be a recovery here.

Ok. Alright '0000' East 'Blah' Parkway (to protect it from any funny business tonight of course), here's looking at you...

With your crazy gas stove that blew open the oven door when we turned you on.

And your stupid fake fireplace made of plywood that took up our entire kitchen and not even my dog believed was real.

With your stairs that made you swear off high heels.

And your gold fans that took me to the 70's.

And how about your glass door that just invited Peeping Toms to join us for dinner.

And let's not forget that annoying chipmunk that lives behind your front steps.

I'm happy to be leaving you, you lame...stupid...awful....

Well, we did replace that stove for a shiny new white one that purrs like a kitty. And we tore down that fireplace and people stopped pointing and laughing.. That railing we installed did change my thoughts on high heels...And we did replace those gold fans with ones that even Pottery Barn would be happy to invite over for dinner...And we got a new door and that glass door is in a better place now hopefully being what it was created to be. a window.... and Chip, well you are the world's friendliest chipmunk.

Well, crap.

That didn't work.

Fine.

I am going to miss you home. There. I said it. You are too darn cute to not miss. It's like Michelle from Full House.

So, lets have that Last Dance, whatd'ya say?

I suddenly have the urge to find a corner of a wall, wrap my arms...along it... and slow dance the night away.

Don't judge.

The Other You.

We are going to have a child soon. A beautiful little boy or maybe girl from a country far away. Ethiopia to be exact.

We are just starting the process...raising money...filling out applications...researching and more researching....reading books....

And my mind is constantly filled with thoughts about our child. What will he/she look like? Boy? Girl? Newborn? 1 year old?

And as much as I am picturing taking this little child for walks...watching them grow up... playing and dancing in the living room to cartoons...snuggling during the winter months and running through hoses in the summer...hearing the soft breathing of a napping infant.... I have become even more overwhelmed with this:

This baby will come into the world grieving. Losing the one thing it has been so intimately connected with for its entire existence. It's mother.

I know that at some point, Scott and I will be the only scent that this child knows. the only voices that bring security. the only heartbeats they will hear. But when our little first one comes into the world, it will only have had one heartbeat...one voice...one scent... and it wont be ours. and it will be gone.

There is something so beautiful about adoption. but there is something so tragic.

We are adopting not to fill our need to be parents. We are adopting not to complete the family circle that we long for. No. I am realizing that more and more how incredibly selfish that is.

There is a child who has a mother that does not want them. There is a child who has lost both parents to death, disease or poverty. A child who has cousins running around somewhere in the world and aunt's and uncle's and grandma's and grandpa's who share their smile, their laugh, their quirks, their bloodline. Who they will never meet.

I understand grief. I do not understand rejection. I do not understand loneliness.

So, as the reality of adoption is setting in, I am completely sobered. The feeling of responsibility is heavy on my heart. This child needs love and we will give that unconditionally. This child needs security and we will provide that. But, this child will need to heal. And this is the part that I am praying the Lord shows us how to handle.

You.

I remember asking you to write letters with me to our 3 babies when we took a trip to the Dells. And you layed there on the blanket at the park in Devil's Lake. uncomfortable. wanting to be somewhere else. not because you didn't want to acknowledge them or face what we were facing. but because you and I grieve so differently. and this was a part of my grieving and not yours. but you wrote. and you let me cry. and you folded up those letters into a little envelope and let me have them.

I remember laying on the bathroom floor during our second miscarriage completely broken. a mess. i couldnt breathe enough to calm down. and you held me. the strength that you put around me. the shirt you let me soak with my tears as you soaked mine with yours.

I remember reading an email of thanks that you sent out to our friends. you wrote with a vulnerability that i didnt have the courage to write with. your words were so raw and so humble and so honest. i remember you taking my breath away. and i remember thinking, i love this man.

I remember watching you play football when we went camping right after we lost Will. I was so angry with you for making me leave the security of our dark and sad home. I wasn't ready to look anyone in the eye. wasnt ready to smile. but, we went. and i watched you play football and caught glimpses of joy in your face. caught you laughing as you dropped a ball. caught you smiling at me with a sheepish grin when you threw a perfect spiral. you reminded me that we would be ok without saying one word.

I have seen a side to you that I'm not sure I would have seen had we not lost. I have seen a depth of sadness in your eyes. I have heard desperation in your voice. I have felt the ache of emptiness in the air around you.

But, I have seen love that I could never explain. I have seen humility that still brings me to tears. I have seen a strength that I dont even think you knew that you had. I have understood the meaning of hope.

And I have been loved. truly loved by a man who had nothing to give. and yet, still gave me everything.

I know working really hard and succeeding at work... spending time with wonderful friends and family... playing weekly softball and having game nights...going on late night dates and sleeping in.... taking our dogs to the park and enjoying the sun on vacations.... this all just fills the time for you...

Because I know that as much as you love being an uncle and a great friend and an awesome son, you just want to be a dad. And although there has been no loss lately... there has still been no gain.

And I just wanted you to know that our time will come. And in the meantime, I am really sorry that you have to wait.

I think it could be incredibly cheesy and horribly lame. But, if you could put aside the late 1990's associations with this word, I am going to ask that you would...

Because I want to tell you. that you.

are my hero. and we are going to be ok.
because I have you. and you have me.

Ode to my kidney:

Righty, oh Righty... I have so much to say.

My whole life, its been only us, but it feels so new today.

You scared us a bit with your large little figure.

But, the CT scan shows youre just an overachiever.

I've spent my whole life thinking that there was a lefty,

I can only imagine. Your feeling of responsibility must have been so hefty.

But instead of shriviling in your pity filled gloom

You decided to get ripped and force the rest of me to make room.

So, you are healthy and thriving and strong the doc's say

There's a tiny bit of fluid, but come on , you try to be a lone kidney for a day.

I guess I just want to aknowledge your hard work

And let you know that I will calm down soon so you won't go berzerk.

But, I do have one tiny favor to ask..

Its really really small, so dont take me to task.

I have this thing...this little old thing

The docs say its ok and its something we can swing.

I would like to run the marathon. Its 4 days away

So, how about we do this thing, whatdya say?

I promise to drink lots of water with glee

So, just make sure you do your job and filter that pee.

And when it is over, I promise you one thing

I will sit my butt down on a bench or a swing.

Or a chair or a couch or a bed or a table

Heck, Ill sit my butt down on some hay in a stable.

I promise to rest and let you get some zzz's when its done

But until then, do me a solid and stay on top of your function?

Right kidney, my kidney, my dear old new friend

Although I miss lefty, it is you on which I will always depend.

So, let's cheers to this newfound friendship, but before I bid adiou

You mind giving my damn uterus a pep-talk too?