In Which I Think About Sylvie

Today I went to the army post with Connor for a meeting, which ended up canceled.  Since we were already out there anyway, I stopped by the local Target.  I ended up walking out with a cute little cooking set and a Legos kit-- both for Sylvie.

Yes, I know we won't be traveling to get her for another year, and it's way, way too early to be buying toys for her.  But it gives me a way to feel connected to her; I can imagine her playing with her cooking set in the kitchen beside me while I cook on the stove.  I can picture Jeremy helping her build all sorts of fantastic Lego creations.  She'll be of an age when she gets home for imaginative play-- something she may never have had the chance to do in the orphanage-- and I can't wait to teach her all about it.

Actually, it's hard to wait in general.  We're in the process right now of getting all of our dossier paperwork together to send to Thailand, and there's no telling how long the process will take once all of that paperwork is over there.  While I understand that the many, many forms are all necessary and the process, while slow, is important to make sure that the adoption is in Sylvie's best interest, it's still frustrating to know that it will probably be more than a year before we travel to bring her home. 

You know how when you are expecting a baby, suddenly you start noticing babies everywhere?  Moms will know exactly what I'm talking about here.  Well, I'm doing that with five year old girls.  All of the sudden they're popping up everywhere, and while watching them interact with their parents, it's hard not to wonder what Sylvie is doing right now. There's a fourteen hour time difference between Thailand and Washington, so right about now she'd probably be eating lunch.  She doesn't know we exist yet, and she probably won't learn about us for at least another nine or ten months, but there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her. 

So I'll put the toys I got for her today up in the large plastic bin I'm storing in the closet of what will be her room.  Every once in a while, when it seems like we'll never get through this process, I open the closet door.  I bring the bin down and look through the things in there: my old paper doll collection, a miniature wooden bed with clothespin posts, art supplies, a beloved Chinese baby doll that was mine as a girl.  And for just a little while, as I sit with the toys in my lap, I can forget how many months stretch out before we'll get the chance to meet our precious daughter. 

I can't wait to meet her.

~Jess