April 12 is a day of promise and victory for me, for our family.
On April 12, 2006, I was transformed from an “infertile stepmom of 2,” trying very hard to be hopeful in the light of a shattered dream to the recipient of a miracle and the happiest pregnant woman who ever lived.
Rod and I have been sort of counting down to April 12 this year… not formally, but sort of in that silent, knowing language of a couple who knows each other completely and is in the trench together.
We need to know what our next chapter is in order to get started on it.
On May 1, our home is rented to another family.
We have both applied for jobs in Chicagoland to no avail, at least not yet.
We have job offers in Myrtle Beach, SC…but the company needs to give a green light for them to start, and once they do, we need to find a place to live, and we need to move our family halfway across the country.
We are not restful spirits. We need stuff to do. We need deadlines and crunchtime and the semi-organized chaos of doing. And while we’re not exactly calm right now, with all our packing and a whirlwind trip to Nashville this week and planning for the ever-close Branson GMR, we are in a holding pattern.
And we don’t do so well with that.
So, this April 12, we will kiss goodbye 3 sisters who are staying at our current home with Mamaw – two of them working on their “summer knees,” as you can see, trek to Nashville (where we thought we’d be living by now, incidentally), and remember fondly how an April 12 changed our lives forever. Maybe on this April 12, they will change again.