I know I've blogged, before, about the surreal detached sort of anticipation that is the Adoption Process. Well it has hit me hard, yet again. As we cross off our to-do list, one item at a time, it becomes startlingly more real but unreal all at the same time.

I know it is not PC to use pregnancy analogies so, at the risk of offending the singles out there, I'm going to use a wedding analogy. You know when you first get engaged and the wedding is, like, forever in the future? You are excited, full of adrenaline at the prospects of the Journey. It doesn't matter that the actual event is a year away. You have no concept of time, as of yet. You revel in the newness of this Journey and that is enough.

But then, eventually, you realize it is just a lot of work. A lot of stress. A major headache. You don't quit becuase, of course, you want to marry, to become spouses, to live happily ever after. You just have to get through THIS part of the process to get to the reward.

Well this is where the analogy ends. Because I know in my own wedding preparations, the closer we got to the actual ceremony, the more and more I could picture it. I could envision walking down the aisle, meeting my fiance's eyes and standing in front of the group of our closest family and friends. I could envision dancing, hand-in-hand, to the music we so love. I knew what to expect, I knew how the event would play out.

Not so with adoption. At least not for me. As some of you are aware, I have been a clothes-buying NUT for the better part of the last 9 months. But the clothes I've bought are fancy, special, extravagant items. These aren't items that we can easily picture a child in. As we buy some of the bigger things like Addison's car seat and some of the more ordinary items such as her socks and pajamas, it has become increasingly impossible to avoid picturing the events unfolding. I have this car seat sitting in the middle of our living room and how can I walk past it without imagining my daughter in that seat? I have these sweet little pajamas that I sometimes hold up a dozen times a day, just to imagine them filled out with baby - my baby! These ordinary items represent ordinary life. The mundane things you use as part of a family, day in and day out. Toothbrushs, soap, nail clippers, strollers. These are the things I've resisted buying up until now. I never could really figure out why but now I know. I was waiting for it to feel real. To feel like I could picture my baby being a part of this family day in and day out.

The problem is, I try but all I get is a void. I can't fill out those tiny baby jammies or picture Addison all snug in her seat while we head out for dinner as a family. To picture it seems like hitting the lottery - another thing I've never pictured because it was so preposterous and impossible. More than that, I can't picture walking into Addison's orphanage. I can't picture what that would be like. I have no ability to conjure up an image of our first meeting. I can't imagine what it will be like to stand at a G&R and become Addison's mother. I can't imagine walking around Saigon or Hanoi with a baby strapped to my chest or hip. I can't imagine snuggling in bed with this sweet bundle of joy - the face in all these pictures - cuddled between us. I can't picture what her smile might look like. She doesn't seem real. So those experiences seem impossible. They seem like experiences that happen to other families. Lucky families. I can't wrap my head around the idea that *we* are this family!! How could we possible ever be so fortunate????

And it's not just Addison. Sometimes when friends of mine who are also adopting send their children small gifts and then, later, share photos of these children holding the very gift they sent I feel completely irrational about it. I look and can't imagine that that same photo album was once held by this family and now is in the hands of their child, halfway around the world. Sometimes I have irrational thoughts like "It's a scam, the orphanage put together an album similar just for the photograph". haha. Obviously I know this isn't true but that just goes to show how far my head has to stretch to imagine that truly there are real children half a world away waiting not just for me but for some of my friends also going through this process.

I guess this is not all bad. It means I don't have any expectations and, therefore, can't be disappointed or disillusioned. But as the waiting gets harder and we reach the home stretch it sure would help to be able to picture what it feels like to walk up and touch my child for the first time ever. I could hold that in my heart as we wait, using it to motivate me to be patient and ground me with the knowledge that this IS real and will really happen. And soon. Instead, I rely on my poor husband. I ask him stupid questions like "Will we ever get to meet Addison? Will she become our daughter? Will she ever come home? Is this real? Are you excited?" in order to feel like I"m not just walking through a dream and to feel grounded-by-proxy. It doesn't work so well which is why I keep having to ask. But during this long wait, it is all I have.