Hi, I’m Tara.

What started out as a private blog to document our adoption journey has evolved into my journey through therapy, spiritual awakening and whatever I feel like writing. Without our struggles to build a family, I’m not sure I’d be waking up, and for that I’m grateful.

The Places You'll Go (Oh Boy)

I'm not sure I've read the entire book "Oh the Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss more than twice.  The first time may have been when I was on maternity leave with Baby X.  I have a vague recollection of reading the book and getting a little emotional, but not being in a particularly trigger-able state.

Tonight, X decided that he wanted to read that book.  It hasn't been a good day for me emotionally, but I was happy to be reading a different book for once, since he tends to make us read the same books over and over again.   I know this as a popular graduation gift, something to give a young adult striking out to make their mark in the world.  Because of that, my perception of the book is one of encouragement and success.  It is both of those things, but not before some shit hits the fan.

I got to this part and was ok:

You can get all hung up 
in a prickle-ly perch. 
And your gang will fly on. 
You'll be left in a Lurch. 

You'll come down from the Lurch 
with an unpleasant bump. 
And the chances are, then, 
that you'll be in a Slump. 

And when you're in a Slump, 
you're not in for much fun. 
Un-slumping yourself 
is not easily done. 

And then I got here and reading became difficult:

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. 
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. 
A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin! 
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? 
How much can you lose? How much can you win? 

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right... 
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? 
Or go around back and sneak in from behind? 
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find, 
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind. 

You can get so confused 
that you'll start in to race 
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace 
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, 
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. 
The Waiting Place... 

Then it all fell apart and I couldn't read anymore:

...for people just waiting. 
Waiting for a train to go 
or a bus to come, or a plane to go 
or the mail to come, or the rain to go 
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow 
or waiting around for a Yes or a No 
or waiting for their hair to grow. 
Everyone is just waiting. 

Waiting for the fish to bite 
or waiting for wind to fly a kite 
or waiting around for Friday night 
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake 
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break 
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants 
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. 
Everyone is just waiting. 

During my breakdown in the middle of reading my child a bedtime story, he looked at me and said "Mommy, read it" a little uncertainly.  He looked uncomfortable and confused; he didn't know what was going on.  His mom just started inexplicably crying in the middle of the usual routine.  But, he leaned against me, and I managed to finish the book with broken voice through the tears. 

I don't know how much an almost-3 year old can understand, but I shared with him that we've tried to bring home two different brothers and it didn't work and it made me sad.  I shared with him that mommy and daddy are stuck in the "Waiting Place" and we don't like it.  I told him we're waiting because we want to have another baby, but that it's hard for us to have babies. 

And then we read the "The Lorax", I tucked him into bed and he went straight to sleep.

hahahahaha in my dreams.  He got up a couple times, begged for water, asked for more smooches and hugs, came downstairs after I left, had to be carried back to bed and tucked in again, thankfully that time he was so tired that he did actually fall asleep.  For now.

Turning it Around

April ICLW