A few weeks ago marked the two-year anniversary since we learned about our little boy in Vietnam. He was 7 months old when we first learned about him and saw the picture of him with his shock of black hair, and it was the second time in life I experienced love at first sight. He's now 31 months old (actually to the day today), and he's still not home with us.
I liken it to a 2-year gestational period, which is two months more than the mammal with the longest pregnancy - the elephant.
When parents go to help at the orphange, I get photos, videos and updates about how he's doing - just like I would if I was carrying him in my uterus and going to the doctor and getting ultrasounds.
I have felt the nesting urges, my mood is constantly having peaks and valleys and I am now have food cravings - mostly Twizzlers.
I am more than ready for my water to break and start the contractions. Maybe I need to have sex, go for a walk, take some castor oil, or one of the other many labor-inducing tricks.