The date

The other day I sat at a Chinese restaurant and wrote the following ....

For me the passage of time is marked when the calendar hits the 27th. In October it fell on a Friday. In January a Saturday. Doesn't matter the day-but the date matters oh so much. I check it off the calendar in delight and carefully calculate how many more to come. You see, I am an expectant parent. A mother for the first time at the young age of 46. My baby will be born from another women. Her father, a man that looks nothing like my husband. I am adopting. The date 10/27/06 means everything to me as this is the date I am logged into my child's country of birth. From that day forward I watch the days roll by. It is a very calculated system this adoption process. Adoption files are logged in and the matching begins in order of log in. There are thousands of others before me. The wait begins and then it continues. My emotions can be all over the place. I am expecting. Just like those who are biologically pregnant. I will love my baby as deeply as they. Care for only the best for her. Be proud of her. Spare no expense for her. Just plain simply love her. The wait is the wait. My age is my age. It simply is what it is.