I’m a little sick of myself and ready to move forward from sadness.  Non-fertility-related good things are happening and I need to notice them.  My husband and I have been trying to formulate the Tennessee plan since early last year, when we picked a spot in that beautiful state, flew down to check it out, and ended up buying a big-ish piece of sorta virgin land.  It still freaks me out that we own that much land.  It’s like our own national park, it seems so big to me.  The topography of Tennessee is pretty amazing after living here in Flatland for 15 years.  It’s so seductive to drive up the hill that leads to our land, turn the corner and find ourselves in our very own hidden valley.  It’s also covered with rotting fallen pine trees, which is why we got it sorta cheap; the lumber company that owned this land dumped it because of international competition and because the pine trees got "et up" by the Japanese white pine beetle.  It’s definitely a fixer-upper.

Anyway, some stars lined up this week and my husband has gotten the first glimmerings of a green light towards a way to continue his present job from out of state.  So we don’t have to move until we’re ready, and many things have to happen before we’re ready; but at least "we" have a job.   I, of course, intend for mommying to be my job.  There are fertility clinics in East Tennessee, but my vision for the past year+ has been that we get the babies born here, and end up there right when we need the bigger house, the yard, and the very inviting climate that allows us to enjoy being outside for more than a few months out of the year.  But that vision and that timing is starting to warp a bit; now it’s almost as if I can’t gain admittance to TN without an infant or two.  But my husband is helpful when I need to be talked out of warped visions and so I’m going to breathe and know that It Will All Work Out.

Tennessee is green hills and really, really nice weather and an affordable house big enough to have my entire family for Christmas.  It’s a little town outside of a little city where most people go to church on Wednesday night, where everybody seems to know everybody else just because they’re that friendly, and Smoky Mountain National Park is an hour away.  It’s also a state that favors coal power plants over any other fuel source, where the "n" word is accepted in casual conversation, and where burning leaves (and possibly lynching) is still allowed.  They have most of the stores needed for survival, like Whole Foods and Bed, Bath and Beyond; but we would not be able to fall out our front door and find real Mexican or cheap Thai or much else beyond a handful of very good restaurants.  Most of all, our friends are not in East Tennessee and that’s pretty scary.

But we know we’re going, and we’re starting to have a little bit more momentum towards going, and it’s such a known part of who we are now that it feels like destiny.  I’ve moved only once in my life, from Northern Virginia / DC area to the Midwest, and I can tell  you it takes a lot of gearing up and planning and agonizing before I can finally slam the car door and GO.   I can’t say I’m excited because I’m scared too.  But I’m glad we’re getting some green lights and moving forward; being stuck in between is, as my 5-year old nephew used to say, "the wust." 

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