A year

What a difference a year makes.... I can't believe that it's a year since we went and had that scary matching panel. I can't believe that a year ago we were told that we could be boy-o's parents. I can't believe that this time last year we were planning, and tidying and getting ready like mad.

I can't get my head around the fact it's a year. That this time last year we still hadn't met our boy, although the planning was happening. I can't believe that it's only a year. I can't imagine life without him. We are blessed beyond measure with our little man.

When M brought him home from the childminders this afternoon, he ran into the kitchen were I was getting tea; and gave me a huge hug. He smiled and talked through tea. He was only sad that I said no drawing because it was bedtime. I do mostly love my job, but I miss my boy and wish I could be with him more.

In other news - it's ICLW! Welcome if it's your first time here, or you are not a regular reader. I'm nh, I am a mother, a wife, and a science teacher. Last year M and I adopted our son, who will very soon be 3. I live on the outskirts of a Yorkshire city, with countryside 10mins in one direction and city 10minutes in the other.

Feel free to have a look around. I've travelled a difficult path to get to the point where I can call myself a mum. We went through years of infertility and grief before deciding to adopt. Those dark times lurk and linger in spaces in my soul; they aren't forgotten, just put aside in the rush of everyday life.

Feb half term

Half term week has been and gone...in a blaze of happy times, friends and a lack of sleep. Tomorrow would indicate a return to work - except I don't work Mondays.

This time last year... is a little phrase that has rattled around my head this past week. Last Feb half term (which was actually a week later) we had matching panel, we got a yes, and we madly organised for a week, before meeting our boy.

This year... I've spent quality and happy time with my boy. Well, mostly happy, but neither of us has been 100% well, if he's slept alright I've been up coughing. If I've been on for a good night's sleep, he's been awake. Last night might actually have broken our previous record, but about 3 o'clock this morning, M & I gave up counting. It wasn't a good night!

But highlights of the last week, seeing our friends with their new puppy, and walking with them all. Meeting up with another friend and her 3 year old twins, having a glorious walk and watching the boys interact. Having my friend with her daughter her for lunch and playing with boy-o. Getting to go to the adoption play group; and seeing my friends there, chatting and catching up.

We've had some good times and bad times with boy-o this week. He's very two at the minute; and with being off colour, we've had plenty of tantrums. Proper two year old tantrums. Proper do-your-head in tantrums. Lots of crying and screaming when he can't have his way. I keep hoping that a magic switch will appear when he turns 3.... however, having seen my friends 3 year old twins, it's possible that doesn't happen.

But this too will pass, I'm not complaining as such, just diarising. He is a happy, young man with a whole lot of personality.

February

February has been a funny month for the last few years - and as I prepare to face this week, knowing that it's the anniversary of my worst miscarriage; but equally knowing that the end of the month will bring about the anniversary of meeting our boy...I feel strange. I want to cry about what might have been, but that takes away from the joy of my boy.

Nothing takes away from what might have been, and time doesn't heal, it just helps you find ways to deal with it. Those babies were precious, as were all the others, but it is this miscarriage that I remember more than any other. Knowing that 5 years ago, I had hope of an entirely different ending to our story.

And yet... I can't imagine any other outcome. I love my boy, I can't think of how I could have loved a birth child more. He is our child, and whilst I wish for him that he had been able to have been brought up by his birth family; I'm glad he's ours.

And yet...I wonder what might have been, who those children would have grown to be. Whether they'd be tall and skinny like M, or shorter and chubbier like me. Would they have liked what we like, would we have cherished their joy of the world, of being outside. Would we have a girl who liked doing craft like me. Would we have a boy who wants to explore how the world works like M. Who would those children have been.

And yet... we are blessed beyond measure. Our boy, is such a boy. He loves being outside and will just run around with the joy of it. He is not afraid of anything (except us leaving him). He finds joy in each new day and each new experience. Everywhere he goes people smile, because he smiles. He is making me grow, because with him I have to be a better person.

And yet... sometimes when I am with my friends with the children born in the month before ours would have been, I wonder. Would their children be good friends with ours. Would they be experiencing everything new with them.

And yet... boy-o loves those children. If you ask him who his friends are... two out of the three (the ones he sees most often) are mentioned...always. Other friends vary, but he loves spending time with those children. He plays so well with them. Perhaps if they had been closer in age it would have been different.

And time passes. The pain becomes easier to absorb. The knowledge of our boy is great, and the shadows are fading. As those potential children become older... I lose sight of them more often. They become more ghost like... a presence rather than actual beings. But I can't forget them totally, they will always be there, waiting in the shadows.