Since winter is the season for magical thinking and we all need a little hope. And since I have complete faith in my palm pilot’s Magic 8 Ball and its ability to decide whether a stone is capable of granting a wish (every cycle, when I asked if I was pregnant, it replied: “my reply is no.” And sure enough, I was never pregnant. So I have full faith in the Magic 8 Ball and I asked it if this was a real magic wish stone capable of granting one wish a day and it replied, “it is decidedly so.” That’s sound enough for me), I wanted to invite everyone to prove the power of magical thinking with the wishing stone challenge.

Every day, touch the picture of the stone on the screen and make a wish that can be verified that day. It has to be a realistic wish and it has to be one that is able to be verified (therefore, you can’t, unfortunately, wish for world peace. You also can’t wish that your office mate will read your mind and bring you a vanilla latte from her Starbucks run unless this is something that has a small likelihood of happening. You can wish for things like success for your embryos pre-transfer or low FSH at your day 3 blood draw).

Write down your wish every day after you make it and keep track of which ones come true. Do this for 10 days and get a percentage of how many times the wish came true. I think if it even has a 25% collective success rate, it is worth keeping on the side bar for everyone’s future cycles (and sometimes you just need to wish that you’ll be waived from jury duty or that you’ll get a job. And these are all reasonable requests for a wishing stone).

So weigh in and let me know if you’re up for the challenge with a reply in the comments section. It begins tomorrow on November 21st and it runs until the night of November 30th. On December 1st, send in your percentage (for instance, if three of your ten wishes were granted, you had a 30% success rate). And by December 2nd, we should know whether or not the wishing stone has any worth at all (though, come on, it already made KE’s E2 levels go down and it kept her cycle from being cancelled!). If you are reading this and it is after November 21st and you want to join the challenge, do it anyway and send in your percentage late. I’ll keep recalculating.

And add your cool wish success stories to the original post with the wishing stone so people can read them since that’s the entry linked to my side bar.

Josh bought me a wishing stone this weekend at a store called Mud and Metal. I verified its powers as a wishing stone by checking with my palm pilot’s Magic 8 ball prior to the purchase. I am happy to report that according to the Magic 8 ball, this is a true and working wish stone.

So I’m granting everyone a wish. Just touch the screen and make the wish. And let me know if it comes true.

According to the questions I asked the Magic 8 ball, the stone should be able to grant one wish a day. Therefore, I’m also putting a link in the side bar for easy access if people should need wishes in the future.

Because while Plan A’s always sound nice in theory and you get very attached to them, it’s usually what happens in the Plan B that you appreciate and enjoy more.

Once upon a time, Plan A for our five year anniversary was returning to St. Lucia where we went on our honeymoon. Plan A included a beach front room, fruity drinks, and some snorkeling. Plan A was very expensive and not very feasible. Plan A was never brought up again once the reality of life kicked in.

The problem was that we didn’t come up with a Plan B. We kicked around a few ideas–hiking in West Virginia. Going to a semi-local beach off-season. But in a completely non-Melissa-like fashion, there was no plan in place beyond the fact that we had babysitting from Saturday morning until late Sunday afternoon. Seriously–I think not making a decision on the Lovenox is rubbing off on the rest of my life. It’s almost as if I can’t make plans anymore. I used to plan the next cycle before the current cycle had even happened. And now I’m sitting on information and looking around in confusion. Plan? How do you make a plan again?

The epiphany happened at 10 p.m. on Friday night. We got married in Baltimore, about one hour away. Neither of us knew Baltimore well so we decided to pick a random neighbourhood and walk around for the afternoon. Go back to the scene of the wedding. We went online and googled bookstores in Baltimore. We got married in a library, and it seemed fitting to center our trip on a bookstore. Hence how we ended up with Atomic Books and the Hampden neighbourhood.

It was a really cute street. Lots of small boutiques and fun restaurants. But the best, by far and away, was a place that I knew was created solely for Manuela. It was called Ma Petite Shoe and it was…wait for it…a SHOE and CHOCOLATE store. The front of the store was designer shoes (get it–shoe/chou) and the back was unusual chocolates. I fell in love with about twenty different pairs of shoes and bought none since I was wearing my new furry boots and felt like two pairs of shoes in one week was a bit much. We did buy some tea-flavoured chocolates (I got chai and Josh got ginger) and ate them while we walked, pretending to be Rachael Ray from $40 a day.

Josh as Rachael Ray: “Here’s a tip. You can get a small piece of chocolate for only $2 at Ma Petite Shoe. It was just what I needed in the middle of my shopping trip. Delish! And my little pick me up only set me back two bucks. How great is that?”

On the second day of our at-home vacation, we went to do all the things we used to love to do that we don’t do anymore. We ate lunch at Nam Viet (I know, Spark! It is seriously the best Vietnamese in the area) and read at Politics and Prose. We went shopping for kitchen stuff.

It wasn’t a flashy vacation and it wasn’t a spectacularly over-the-top send-off to five years of marriage. But it was cozy and warm. And it was familiar and happy. And it was sweet and sentimental. And it was all the things I love about my husband. And I love that we can just be ourselves and we don’t need to do something big since we’re happy just doing it heartfelt. And that we hold the same things as important. And that he can hold my hand across the table while we read and I know that even though we’re deep into different books, we’re still on the same page.

It was a perfect five year anniversary celebration. And it just reminded me that it doesn’t need to be a huge change to jolt you out of your rut. It can be as small as getting in the car and exploring a neighbourhood in a town an hour away. And it can be equally as special as a beach vacation.

And on a beach vacation, you can’t wear you new furry boots.

Thank you for all the anniversary well wishes this week. We will be partying all weekend–drinking mojitos, eating Vietnamese (oh…hon…you didn’t know? We’re going to Nam Viet this weekend…), and blowing the rest of D.C. away with our stylish moves on the dance floor. Or we’ll be curled up in bed for the entire weekend catching up on two years worth of missed sleep. Either/or. Perhaps we’ll just have mojitos in bed.

I thought I’d focus on adoption entries this week in honour of National Adoption Awareness Month. So, come, join me on the side bar as we peruse some kick-ass blogs.

There were a flurry of families coming together this week:

Barely Sane at Infertility Licks! is currently with the birthmother and her maybe baby. She got the call this week and high-tailed it from her home in Canada to Ohio. In a few days, she may be going home with her daughter. She held her and fed her on Wednesday. It’s an amazing world. When you read an entry like this, you realize the connections that adoption creates where moments earlier, there was just an open space. I wish you perfect peace and that all pieces settle into place.

Also, Art-Sweet at Artificially Sweetened received her referral call on Tuesday for her “Guatebaby.” The woman from the agency immediately emailed her photographs of her son (and scroll down the blog to take in all of his deliciousness). I had my first goosebumps when I read about how she called her partner to tell her and she said, “I want you to come home and see pictures of your son.” I had my second round of goosebumps when she closed off the story with “She came home, and pronounced him beautiful, over and over again. I fell in love with her even more, watching her fall in love with him. We called GAL and accepted the referral.” They still have more paperwork and waiting ahead, but they’ll hopefully be bringing home their son next spring!

Starfish at Hell and High Water has an amazing post about coming out of infertility and no longer defining herself as infertile. She describes the change like this: “Once we finally stopped treatment, I stopped being defined by my infertility. I went back to being a wife, a daughter, a sister, a boss, a friend. Not at first of course, it took time to remember how to be happy and hopeful again. I could liken it to a hibernation of sorts…I came out of the dark cave disoriented and squinting from the bright sun, and needed to slowly get used to the real world again. It’s no small thing. People who haven’t been through it don’t get it, and maybe I didn’t realize myself how bad I was until now, when I can see how changed I am. I’ve wasted so much time being miserable that it is such a relief to again find joy in the smallest things.” This peace spills over into her adoption process, keeping her at peace as she sees the big picture while she waits for her call. For anyone who has ever questioned whether they want to continue on the road of treatments or leave it for another path, visit this blog and speak to the wise and kind Starfish (that last part sounded like it’s from a fable–the wise and kind Starfish…).

Evil Mommy (who is really quite kind and not evil in the least–so she can stop thinking that even on her bad days) has a post this week about “Adoption Day” and whether people celebrate it with their child. The comments are equally as interesting. One person says: “I was adopted, and I would have been mortified at having my “adoption day” publicized. Just another way of being different. No, thanks.” But another counters that with her own take on her own adoption: “We celebrate it every year. I was adopted and I would have loved to celebrate it when I was a kid. We just never thought of it.”

Go pick another blog or two off the blogroll and read about different adoption journeys this weekend. While I sip mojitos.

There are many things out there to adopt. A quick google search of “adopt a” reveals programs to adopt a pet, minefield, platoon, manatee, classroom, greyhound, chick, and…somewhat more mysterious in how you go about the adoption process…a demon. And this is just on the first page.

It isn’t until the last entry on page 2 that you actually get to adopting a child. You first need to read about adopting a native elder, highway, and even a “useless blob.” Sure makes the children of this world feel special.

The brilliant and lovely Jane at Plain Jane Mom has a fantastic post about this issue on her blog. How does one explain to their child the intense love created through adoption when one can also adopt “a filthy highway or a zoo animal?”

Adoption has replaced the idea of sponsorship in our language. Usually, when one “adopts” a road or minefield, they are agreeing to either throw money at the situation or spend a few hours a week cleaning up a mess. And while I love pets as much as the next person, there is something profoundly strange about using the same word to describe the process of bringing home a dog from a shelter vs. a human from an orphanage. Perhaps it is this twist in linguistics that makes people believe that you can always “just adopt.”

Jane’s post about the misuse of the word “adoption” goes hand-in-hand with the move towards positive adoption language and the idea that the words we use reveal our thoughts on the subject at hand. Phrases such as real mother, own child, or abandon say more about the thoughts of the speaker than they do about the situation. Are people who are cavalierly tossing around the word adoption simply not aware of the larger implications this has for adoptive parents and adopted children? Are people who ask “is she your own child?” not aware of how this makes the child and the parent feel?

So this is what it comes down to in the end: can anyone truly be verbally sensitive to every group or person out there? Do we only become sensitive on the subjects that affect us emotionally? In the comments section, other readers pointed out their own linguistic pet peeves including the term “starving” (thanks, Melanie). How does speaking in hyperbole about your hunger affect those suffering from true starvation?

It’s a question I ask because I try to be sensitive but often wonder if by default, I (like everyone else) fall flat. And you know I always like a good reason to beat myself up. I’m realistic that no one is perfect, but are even people who attempt to be sensitive and thoughtful from point one really no more successful than people who give no thought to their words? Jane’s post opened my eyes and made me see those adopt-a-highway signs in an entirely new light–one which I hadn’t considered when I read her post even though adoption is in the forefront of my mind. Is it humanly possible to reduce the amount of time you offend? Can one person’s affront be another person’s kindness–and how do you speak neutrally without going insane?

It’s a fair question because part of my book is about what not to say. It’s more difficult to discuss what will be helpful for everyone. But there has been some general consensus as to what is hurtful and unhelpful. And if it’s truly not possible to speak sensitively in the broadest sense of the word, then why should I ever be upset with someone when they say something that hurts me? I’m basing this book on the idea that people want to learn. They want to get along with other people and they don’t want to offend. So, obviously, I would like the answer to this question to be, “yes, Melissa, we can become sensitive if people give us the right guidance.”

Does it just come down this: there is obviously a difference between those who use words without knowing and those who use words after being elucidated in terms of the offensiveness factor. If this is true, if I used the word adopt in terms of a highway yesterday, is it understandable? But is it only now offensive if I keep using this word every time I write to Jane knowing how she feels about the subject? And then where do we draw the line–are there things that are offensive before the educating begins? Or do we forgive all words that come before a person has been told otherwise?

Being a human is difficult. Being a communicating human is even harder.

Hardest still is wrapping your mind around the line between giving people a break and feeling offended.