Snapshot 1 - Setting
First we were both intrigued by the thought of doing it. Friends had done it. We'd heard stories and they sounded amazing. Then we had 4--count them--babies in just 5--count them--years.
I still wanted to do it. Now he didn't want to do it. Every time the subject came up he'd look at me and slowly repeat the same words I'd heard so many times before, My quiver is FULL. Period. Then I'd look at him, blue eyes flashing, and say the same words I'd said to him in every single Deja Vu conversation, Well, what if mine isn't?
In spring of 1998 I had my "come to Jesus" moment: Ok, God, if he's not with me this obsession of mine must not be from you. If you wanted it to happen, you'd tell him. You'd work on him and change his mind. Yup, this obsession is pure Dawn, no divine inspiration. I surrender. I'm letting go of this dream/a.k.a. obsession...
Snapshot 2 - Stunned
In June 1998 our friends walked in the door for dinner with their newest family member--1 year old Drew newly adopted from Russia. To declare Drew adorable would be a serious understatement. A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E. They showed us photos from the orphanage; they told us stories. I've had my "come to Jesus" moment so I'm focused on helping them celebrate Drew and his adorableness. We all joked with C--Sure you won't change your mind? He grinned at me, pleased that I was joking around, glad he didn't need to repeat, My quiver is full. Period.
The rest of the summer we went on our merry way. We took our usual day trips to the beach, went to fireworks on 4th of July, and spent a week in Michigan at my brother's cottage--our 4 healthy, mostly happy kiddos in tow. FUN summer.
In the middle of August we packed for the Outer Banks. Ok, I exaggerated a bit. He did most of the packing and I assisted his efforts. (He's really good at packing. I'm really good at assisting.) After the kids were in bed he sat me down and dropped a verbal bomb, Dawn, I have to tell you something.
Oh my word. Oh __________. He's having an affair. I kept this thought to myself, but was sure he saw me hyperventilating.
Remember when ________ came to dinner in June? I've had one of their stories on my mind all summer... I think we need to adopt a little girl from Russia. I've been thinking about it, praying about it all summer.
I'm stunned into silence, an unusual place for me to be. Tears running down my face. Finally I croak out the words, So we're actually going to get to use the name "Grace"??? Why did those words came out of my mouth first?
His answer as he pulls out a manilla file folder from behind his back: Here's the paperwork folder I've started. I've named it "Grace."
For your sakes I'll keep the next several blubbery--emotional gook--moments to myself. Once we were both able to speak again I began to ask a cuzillion questions. (How do you spell cuzillion?)