The crib is up, which I know, I know, is utterly ridiculous since we won’t have a child to put in it for many, many months.  But now I have something to stare at, a place to rest my eyes as they bug out each time the phone rings.  We WILL in fact have another child.  We have a crib, so we must be getting a child to put in it.  It has to be real.  Cribs don’t lie.  They’re for babies.  Cribs are for babies.  We have a crib.  So we must be getting a baby…right?!?! 

People have commented about the way I answer the phone these days.  First, let me mention that I made the unforgivable mistake of getting a silly phone with no caller ID and a cord that allows me to go no further than to stand up and stretch at my desk.  I hardly ever answer the home phone, but since I’m now waiting for THE CALL, I rush to the phone and answer it no matter what bone I have to break to make it in time.  So I answer with a breathless, “helllll-OOOHHH?!?!?  No, sorry, we already donated to another organization.”  Most of the time it’s a telemarketer, but when it’s an actual friend or family member, I come off disoriented and probably a little stoned.  I have this full-body reaction to the sound of the phone.  My heart jumps, pulse races, stomach flops, adrenaline rushes, and I get trembly outside and gooey inside.  So then I try to mask all that when I pick up the phone, like I’m a completely normal person and not at all rabidly frothing at the mouth, in need of another layer of deodorant and a new pair of pants.  Yeah, all’s normal on my end.  Patiently biding my time, not really thinking about it at all, completely balanced and in no way freaking.  My caseworker has this really sweet, very recognizable voice, and in the first few seconds of every call, I’m trying in my head to make the voice I’m hearing over the line sound like hers.  And then this week she’s been on vacation, so I could hear a different voice, so then I have to actually listen to what the other person is saying before I realize it’s about a doctor’s appointment and not a baby.  THE PHONE has become a fourth person in my house.  It taunts me and calls me names.  I catch myself leering at it out of the corner of my eye.   My cheap, white, plastic tormentor.

I’m about to meet several families who (hopefully) know this level of crazy and will be willing to admit it to me.  I’ve been tracking down the other adopt-ive/ing families at my church and am having them all over for lunch on Sunday (after my sleepover with my high school girls’ group…yeah…maybe no one can match my level of crazy).  I have a couple of crockpots to fill with chili, so on one end of my kitchen is my phone, mocking me with its total lack of ringing, and on the other end, I have my crockpots, smiling at me in anticipation of meeting new friends over steaming bowls of chili and sharing stories of adoption through tomato-stained lips.

The crib, the phone, and the crockpots.  I can’t control when my child will finally curl up in his bed.  It’ll be awhile.  I can’t control when the phone is going to ring with news.  It’ll be…soon, but not yet.  I CAN control what I choose to do with the present.  And I am presently going to go buy ingredients for chili.  I’m going to fill those crockpots, and I’m going to take comfort in making new friends who have been or will be where I am right now, waiting side by side.

Every fall the same thing happens.  As the mornings grow cooler and cooler, I feel a sense of anticipation in the air.  I wake up with an expectation of greatness, the feeling that something exciting is headed my way.  I love crisp air and chilly breezes, crunchy leaves and layered clothing.  My season of dreaminess.  I sip hot coffee and fantasize about a yard full of kids jumping in huge piles of leaves.  And every year the number of kids in my head increases.  This year, I have an even greater sense of anticipation.  At any moment, my phone could ring, bringing news of my baby and our future as a family.  I can’t concentrate.  Each day I try to “Love the moment,” as my coffee cup reminds me.  I play with Elliott and friends and run errands and do the laundry.  The zoo, the park, the library, music class, books books books, building forts and working puzzles.  I know my time with just Elliott is coming to a close.  In some ways I don’t ever want it to end, and in other ways RING, PHONE, RING RING RING!!! 

I found a good deal on a crib and went ahead and bought it.  I went through Elliott’s old clothes and pulled out a few things to hang in the closet, just to make it look like an actual child will live in our guest room at some point.  Looking through Elliott’s old clothes reminds me of how tiny he was, my little four-pounder.  Where has the time gone?  When did he get tall enough to reach the sink?  I treasure these years with Elliott.  I don’t want to miss a moment because I’m too wrapped up in waiting for more.  Elliott is enough right now.  He is my now.  And soon Baby Slash boygirl will be my now, too.  RING, PHONE, RING!!!