Getting to yes.

(Part 1)

We’ve all had it. The itch, the twinge, the little whispering in the depths of your gut. It looks different for everyone, but it’s flowing from the same vein for each of us.

I’m missing something.  Something big. Something important.

What is it? WHERE is it? Did I lose it? Or did I not ever even know it was there?

For some, the answer comes quickly. You have so many bags of chips and cookies for the growing hive of teenage boys constantly swarming your house that you accidentally left one of the actual children at the store because you couldn’t see around your overflowing buggy. 

Easy answer. The what? Your child. Where? The store. Yes, you lost it. Go back and get it. 

But sometimes it’s not so easy. Sometimes the “what” is the hardest one to figure out. Especially if what you’re missing wasn’t something you had to begin with. 

This was the crisis I found myself facing a little more than a year ago. In November of 2019 my life trajectory had altered dramatically. All thanks to three little pills.

Don’t panic. These pills are legal. And non-addicting, at least in the sense that they’re only habit forming because they make me feel amazing. 

For those that don’t know, I have cystic fibrosis. I was born with it. It sucks. But I’ve lived with it and have been blessed enough to be healthy enough to not let it hinder me too much. But the inevitable slow decline into lung failure was looming until the fall of 2019 when a earth-shattering drug, and I don’t say that lightly, hit the market. This medicine, and don’t ask me how because these people who invented this are brilliant (all glory to God for His creation of these insane individuals) and have more degrees than I have toes, has the ability to move things around that are out of place at the cellular level in CF patients, thus “correcting” the issue that causes our problems. It’s not a cure, and I’ll have to take it every day. And the decline may still come some day, but it reversed years of damage in thousands of CF patients almost overnight. Since I was still relatively healthy, my reversal was less numerical and more in the “quality of life” realm, but nonetheless, I suddenly saw a long road ahead of me decades into the future, which had been the impossible dream just months before. 

So here I was, in the middle of the night, November of 2019.  And I feel the itch. The twinge. Something is missing. In my heart of hearts I know what it is, but am just terrified to go there… because I’m not alone on this journey of life, and I knew the man asleep (let’s be real- snoring) next to me wasn’t itchy at all. He was sleeping with skin smooth as butter like a baby. So I did what any reasonable wife does when she has something life altering to ask her husband. I sent an email…

(This concludes part 1 of ?? our adoption story… stay tuned for more!)