Happy Valentine's Day

After attending a fashion show with some friends, he meets me there for a laugh and a drink and then we head home. He is driving through the drizzle on cobblestone streets in a lovely Parisian neighborhood. He is holding my hand and serenading me the entire time.

We arrive back to his home, a lovely and quaint chateau nestled amongst some trees in the quiet countryside. Once inside, he hands me a glass of wine and a platter of nuts and cheese and we chat for a bit. Then he hands me what I think is a magazine article, a menu of 15 courses, each paired with a different French wine or spirit. The only two I can recall at the moment are the foie gras and a dish of calf livers or some other organ meats. I think to myself it's a bit too fancy for me until I realize upon reaching the bottom that this is the menu of our dinner that evening. After reading, I look up at him and he has removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He informs me that he is looking forward to preparing me this gastronomic feast.

I blink for a moment, trying to take it all in. The lovely French kitchen we are standing in with it's large copper pots and picture windows where I look beyond him and see the rain running down the windowpanes. He is waiting for me, waiting for me to respond. It takes me a while for I can not believe my good fortune. He is drop dead gorgeous and he is in love with me. I inquire where all the cookbooks are for this meal he is about to prepare and he chuckles quietly and tells me not to worry but that he is more than capable of preparing the entire meal himself, from scratch.

The feeling of love for this man fills my heart and soul. I am blessed. I excuse myself to freshen up and all the while marvel at my incredible good fortune.

And then I wake up from my dream. Yes, y'all that was my dream last night.
Happy Valentine's Day. :)

Dreams

There is a blog I read about a couple who just returned home from Ethiopia with their new son. They seem like interesting and genuine people. I could see being friends with them if I knew them. Last night she (I don't know her name) posted about a dream she had. She said she dreamed her husband left her for another woman and she was devastated until she woke up and realized her husbands arms were wrapped around her and her son and how happy she was and how all was right with the world. It was a really sweet, heartfelt post. You can read her words here.

I read that post and thought about how lucky she is to feel so happy and then I went to bed. That night I dreamt that I was in a happy relationship and very much in love. It was a wonderful, wonderful dream. But then I woke up. My reality is that I am actually alone and not in a loving relationship and that my dream was just that - a dream. How depressing is that? I wanted to cry.

In better news, I am #2 on the waiting list. My agency said, though, that that doesn't really mean anything because being #2 could mean I get a referral tomorrow, next month or the month after that. It may not mean anything to them but it sure did help to balance out the sadness I felt after my dream.

Bad Dream

I had a dream last night. Or maybe it was a nightmare. I woke up with my face still twisted up in pain and my mouth contorted as if silent screams were emanating from deep within.

I dreamt that I got text message from my father. It said, "Congratulations, Mommy. She is so beautiful." I called him right away because at this point I hadn't seen my child. (somehow I knew in the dream he wasn't referring to a photograph). When I called him I discovered he and my mom and my sister had gone to Ethiopia and picked up my child and were caring for her back home. They said they were trying to be helpful because they knew I had to work. I was sick to my stomach. Sick because they got to experience the first meeting at the care center; sick because they got to hold her first; sick because at this point it had been about a week and I was sure my child had bonded to them.

Is it obvious that bonding time with my child is on my mind? Becoming a new mom is when it really sucks to be American. As you can imagine, my maternity benefits are not enviable. Sure, I can take loads of time off--in fact my contract states they will save my job for up to 3 years, but of course this three years is unpaid. Being single, that benefit isn't terribly useful. I was talking to a Canadian friend of mine the other day. She has a newborn at home so I asked her what her paid maternity leave was like and she casually said, "Oh, it's about a year." A year? Really? Really. She gets 15 weeks maternity, paid, and then an additional 35 weeks parental benefits, paid. Yup, that's about a year. I knew Europeans had it good, but Canadians, too?

I'm wondering, how much time should I be taking off? I'd love to take a year but that's not an option. Six months is not really an option either. I imagine my daughter will be somewhere between 6-18 months when I bring her home. For the smoothest transition, to build trust, to ensure bonding how much time do you think I need?