A Baby Shower.

My friend is giving me a baby shower.

You heard me.

I'm so excited.

Thank you, Sara! She made these adorable invitations (I removed our address for the blog). And thank you, Laura and Kira and whoever else is helping. We are starting over. It's been thirteen years since my last baby shower, and we've passed along a lot of baby things since then. I've kept some good toys and a high chair. For the grandkids. Heh heh. I found a good stroller at a yard sale, and I bought a diaper bag. A DIAPER BAG. I remember the day I celebrated not having to carry one of those around anymore...silly Krista.

Have I mentioned how I'm so excited? What a strange perspective. Knowing what I'm doing, but still totally not. There are expectations--because I've done this four times. But never as a 44-year-old. And never of an orphan. He won't be that anymore, but it's his beginning. He will be adopted, but even that label is a passing one. We will say, he WAS adopted. That will be part of his story. But the hope is that we will say, "He IS ours."

I totally know I'm not the only 44-year-old to start or re-start a family. I know I'm not the only woman adopting a child over ten years younger than the youngest bio child. And I know I'm not the only grandma to have a baby.

I just didn't know I would be any of those. And here we are.

But I also know that Will has experienced trauma in his young little life. We have tools: love, patience, compassion, strength, education, will, faith, experience. We have the experience of others to draw on. We have support. I had no idea how much. We have laughter. And books. Lots of books.

I know opening your heart up like this is a risk. I know that in a lot of ways. I know there are unknowns with Will, as with any child, bio or not. I know that.

The other day I'd wanted to try something I hadn't before. It was a silly little something--a cup of fresh fruit  and cucumber with lime and Mexican spices--but by the time we could go get it they'd sold out. I pouted. "I wanted to try." My husband just opened up laughing, shaking his head. He put his arms around me. "That's you," he said. "Always so excited to try."

I'm realistic, nervous, hopeful, cautious, scared. Prayerful.

And I'm so excited.

Come see us at the shower! If only to share in the hope!