Stitch Fix

On to something fun that I've been meaning to write about for a while.  I hate shopping.  Loathe it really.  Especially clothes shopping.  If I had a uniform for work, I think I would be perfectly content.  However, last summer it started to occur to me that I hadn't really bought clothes since I started at my current job (nearly 7 years ago!) and I've lived some life since then...bore a child, you know that sort of thing.  So it might be time to revamp the wardrobe just a tad.  One of my adoption buddies had recently tried a service called Stitch Fix and blogged about it and I had to say I was intrigued.  Essentially you fill out a VERY in depth questionnaire about yourself including style preferences, sizes, if you need work or play clothes, etc.  And for a mere $25, they will have a stylist handpick 5 items for you and ship them to you.  Each article of clothing comes with a little style card of ways to wear the piece, which is OH so helpful.  You get 3 days to try them on with your existing wardrobe and then a handy prepaid mailer to send back anything you don't want. The initial $25 styling fee can be applied to anything you purchase too so there's very little risk.  I was completely skeptical that this could work at all. After all, I can't even pick clothes for the body I've had for 30+ years - how is somebody who has never met me OR seen me going to do it?  However, during the longest wait last spring/summer, I decided to splurge a bit.

Oh my.  So I did have to adjust my sizing the first two times as things were a bit big.  However, I have scored SO many awesome clothes from this and even a few pieces of jewelry.  Every time I wear something from Stitch Fix, I snag compliments about what I'm wearing and how I look.  Also, most of what I've bought are items that I never would have tried on in a store. I would have written them off as not my style.  But get them in my closet where I can mix and match with what I already own (with the help of the little style card) and my mind has been swayed.  Really this company does an amazing job.   They are completely open to my suggestions on what I want or don't want, it's super convenient, delightfully fun, and you can schedule a fix as often as you choose.  I've had a couple of friends sign up and they've fallen in love as well.

I would post pictures of some of my goods here, but I don't have the energy to upload them.  Plus my style is probably different than yours so I don't want to taint your view that perhaps they only cater to my style - not true!  But if you are looking for a refreshing way to shop, you are more than welcome to use my referral link and give it a try. I really feel confident that you won't be disappointed.

https://www.stitchfix.com/referral/3113818

Family Photo

I have been trying so hard to get into blogger mode.  It has been so hard for so many reasons, but I'm trying really hard to break out of the rut.  It has occurred to me that I have never EVER posted a picture of our amazing family since we've all been together for 8+ months.  So let's start there.

There's an amazing organization out there called Red Thread Photography.  It is comprised of professional photographers that donate their time and skills to capture newly adoptive families.  How incredible is that? We were lucky to team up with the incredible Heather Harris of Heather Harris Photography.  And here's a few of the many amazing shots she took for us:

 How much do I love these two beautiful sweethearts? I just can't help but steal hugs and kisses and tickle them because their laughs make my heart happy.  

And for the record, our Christmas cards/Harper's homecoming announcement have been sitting in a box on my dryer since November.  Yep.  We'll talk about that more later. 

In the mean time, keep the Long family in your prayers because we've got ALL sorts of news to share coming soon....

Where to even begin...

So we went to Africa.

We're back. 

We're a family of 4. 

I have been trying to write for MONTHS now and can't do it. 

Haven't processed it all.  

BUT in the meantime, I just want everyone to know that we are putting our Amazon link to good use.  This year, we will be donating all the proceeds from holiday shopping to good friends who are adopting as well.  So get shopping people! Empty those carts and shop away.  

Maybe soon I'll post again. Maybe with pictures. Maybe. 

It's Go Time

Spent today at home with a sick kiddo.  (I've been noticing lately that big stuff always happens when Madeline is sick.  Possibly a divine way to get me to slow down for a minute????)  Around noon I received a phone call saying it's time to go! To Africa! To bring home that beautiful baby girl of mine. 

Holy. Cow.  

This is happening.  

I spent the rest of the day on the phone with the travel agent, making arrangements for the various residents of Chez Long, getting our Visa documents together.  Good thing I was home!  

So we leave. Soon.  VERY soon.  No dates on here, but SOON.  I have plane tickets and they have dates on them.  And it looks like we'll be going with a couple of other families I have been in contact with, which is awesome.  

Please pray for the following: 

-manageable stress levels 

-wrapping up work

-arrangement for Madeline, the dogs, the house, etc. 

-safe travels

-preparing ALL of our hearts for this transition 

-a quick trip in country!

At Last

After months and months of silence and waiting and numerous meltdowns by me, we finally have a visa in hand for Harper!  I wish someone would have video taped me when I got the email because I'm sure it would have been worth it.  We just need the thumbs up from one more government agency and then we are Africa bound!  The last few weeks have been very busy - filled with shots, shopping, planning, packing, legal documents, more shots - and a whole lot of ambiguity! Please pray for us as we prepare for this crazy adventure! And pray it happens SOON!

The things I want to say

I saw this from another professor on Facebook tonight.  I can say that this has gone through my head a few times:



Thankfully I value my job enough to provide slightly more constructive feedback.

To my Fellow Africa Mommas

I stumbled across this beautiful letter written as a Mother's Day tribute to the adoptive mother.  As so many of my circle fall into this category, I present to you a lovely little reminder that can be found here: http://www.kathylynnharris.com/dear-moms-of-adopted-children/

Dear Mom of an Adopted Child,

I met you in adoption education class. I met you at the agency. I met you at my son’s school. I met you online. I met you on purpose. I met you by accident.

It doesn’t matter. The thing is, I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. The grit. The fight. Because everything about what you have was a decision, and nothing about what you have was easy. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.

Maybe you prayed for it. Maybe you had to convince a partner it was the right thing. Maybe you did it alone. Maybe people told you to just be happy with what you had before. Maybe someone told you it simply wasn’t in God’s plans for you to have a child, this child whose hair you now brush lightly from his face. Maybe someone warned you about what happened to their cousin’s neighbor’s friend. Maybe you ignored them.

Maybe you planned for it for years. Maybe an opportunity dropped into your lap. Maybe you depleted your life-savings for it. Maybe it was not your first choice. But maybe it was.

Regardless, I know you. And I see how you hold on so tight. Sometimes too tight. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?

I know about all those books you read back then. The ones everyone reads about sleep patterns and cloth versus disposable, yes, but the extra ones, too. About dealing with attachment disorders, breast milk banks, babies born addicted to alcohol, cocaine, meth. About cognitive delays, language deficiencies. About counseling support services, tax and insurance issues, open adoption pros and cons, legal rights.

I know about the fingerprinting, the background checks, the credit reports, the interviews, the references. I know about the classes, so many classes. I know the frustration of the never-ending paperwork. The hours of going over finances, of having garage sales and bake sales and whatever-it-takes sales to raise money to afford it all.

I know how you never lost sight of what you wanted.

I know about the match call, the soaring of everything inside you to cloud-height, even higher. And then the tucking of that away because, well, these things fall through, you know.

Maybe you told your mother, a few close friends. Maybe you shouted it to the world. Maybe you allowed yourself to decorate a baby’s room, buy a car seat. Maybe you bought a soft blanket, just that one blanket, and held it to your cheek every night.

I know about your home visits. I know about your knuckles, cracked and bleeding, from cleaning every square inch of your home the night before. I know about you burning the coffee cake and trying to fix your mascara before the social worker rang the doorbell.

And I know about the followup visits, when you hadn’t slept in three weeks because the baby had colic. I know how you wanted so badly to show that you had it all together, even though you were back to working more-than-full-time, maybe without maternity leave, without the family and casseroles and welcome-home balloons and plants.

And I’ve seen you in foreign countries, strange lands, staying in dirty hotels, taking weeks away from work, struggling to understand what’s being promised and what’s not. Struggling to offer your love to a little one who is unsettled and afraid. Waiting, wishing, greeting, loving, flying, nesting, coming home.

I’ve seen you down the street at the hospital when a baby was born, trying to figure out where you belong in the scene that’s emerging. I’ve seen your face as you hear a nurse whisper to the birthmother that she doesn’t have to go through with this. I’ve seen you trying so hard to give this birthmother all of your respect and patience and compassion in those moments—while you bite your lip and close your eyes, not knowing if she will change her mind, if this has all been a dream coming to an abrupt end in a sterile environment. Not knowing if this is your time. Not knowing so much.

I’ve seen you look down into a newborn infant’s eyes, wondering if he’s really yours, wondering if you can quiet your mind and good sense long enough to give yourself over completely.

And then, to have the child in your arms, at home, that first night. His little fingers curled around yours. His warm heart beating against yours.

I know that bliss. The perfect, guarded, hopeful bliss.

I also know about you on adoption day. The nerves that morning, the judge, the formality, the relief, the joy. The letting out of a breath maybe you didn’t even know you were holding for months. Months.

I’ve seen you meet your child’s birthparents and grandparents weeks or years down the road. I’ve seen you share your child with strangers who have his nose, his smile … people who love him because he’s one of them. I’ve seen you hold him in the evenings after those visits, when he’s shaken and confused and really just wants a stuffed animal and to rest his head on your shoulder.

I’ve seen you worry when your child brings home a family tree project from school. Or a request to bring in photos of him and his dad, so that the class can compare traits that are passed down, like blue eyes or square chins. I know you worry, because you can protect your child from a lot of things — but you can’t protect him from being different in a world so intent on celebrating sameness.

I’ve seen you at the doctor’s office, filling out medical histories, leaving blanks, question marks, hoping the little blanks don’t turn into big problems later on.

I’ve seen you answer all of the tough questions, the questions that have to do with why, and love, and how much, and where, and who, and how come, mama? How come?

I’ve seen you wonder how you’ll react the first time you hear the dreaded, “You’re not my real mom.” And I’ve seen you smile softly in the face of that question, remaining calm and loving, until you lock yourself in the bathroom and muffle your soft cries with the sound of the shower.

I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.

But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself.

-Kathy Lynn Harris 

Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful mommas I know.