Way back in July 2007, a very light thin pink line was the only proof Christian and I had of a huge impending change plotting to take over our lives. This time around, it’s a UPS package fresh from America.
The package arrived last week with the good news that an agency on the other side of the largest ocean in the world is interested in representing us in an adoption that will take place on the far side of yet another ocean. Along with our acceptance letter, was a bunch of paper work, including contracts and document releases to sign, as well as a darkly humorous (well, if you possess my perverted sense of humor, anyway) questionnaire in which we got to pick which “special needs” we were or were not willing to accept in our potential offspring (Missing limbs? Yes. Deformed limbs? No.). After some very strange and pretty wrong dinner conversations (“Well, yes, I can see your point, but I don’t really want to have to go to kidney dialysis every week.”), we sent our signed copies back across the sea, along with a hefty pile of gold.
And I guess that means we are now officially expecting our second child (although this is promising to be one freaking long pregnancy).