Pictures

E's birthmom, R, moved back to her home state a couple of years ago. We got sporadic text messages from her, from a different #, every couple of months. And then, late this summer, we got a message from her that she was in town. But not just to visit. She's moved back.

Since then we've had several scheduled get togethers, only one has been successful. It was good. And painful. And beautiful. And hard. She said hardly anything. Just watched him. I can only imagine what was going through her mind. I tried to just sit there, hold space for her, and not get in the way of her loving him.

I offered random tidbits about E. What he likes. What he doesn't like. How he's really funny, in a little old man kind of way. How he loves music and dancing, but will only engage in either when he's in the mood; there's no cajoling him into it when he doesn't want to. How expressive he is when he talks, especially once those hands get going. How much he still loves to cuddle. How he can have quite the temper when he doesn't get what he wants. How much he adores and looks up to his brother. How he's rather introverted, particularly in big groups, or unknown situations. How hilarious he is when he gets going about something random, even when he isn't trying to be. And how mad he gets when we laugh at the times when he isn't being funny on purpose.

She smiled and responded a bit, but mostly just watched him play with his brother, with his (birth) sister.

I wondered which was more painful for her, seeing him then, or not having seen him for so long. I imagine both were horribly hard.

This weekend we're planning to have family pictures. And R and her daughter are coming, too. These pics are our Christmas gift to R. I had thought to set some up, but hadn't figured out who would do them, or when, or even asked R if she wanted to. And then she texted me asking, well, more saying she'd love some. I'm so glad she mentioned it.

This is a first for us. I'm hoping the photographer can do some family pics of me, hubby, and the boys before R arrives (she nearly always runs really late). Then some pics of us all, and some of her, her daughter, and E.

Confession? I want to be the adoptive mom who is all "oh, yeah, I'm 100% comfortable with this". But, I'm not. I think in my head I am. But, I can't really articulate why the rest of me is having all kinds of feels about it. And I can't even really identify the feels, just some kind of discomfort.

I'm pretty sure it's rooted in R's pain. For a long time, it was easy for me to essentially dismiss my boys' birthparents' pain, for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because adoption was a choice they all made. And while that's true, it doesn't mean it was an easy decision to make, and certainly not an easy one to live with. I, of course, didn't take these boys away from their biological families. However, that still doesn't negate their pain, or make it feel any better to me.  And it doesn't make it any easier, really, for any of us.

I really do hope the pictures this weekend go well. I hope R shows up (like I said, there have been some canceled at the last minute visits). I suppose if she doesn't it's just more time for pics of the 4 of us. I hope I can work through some of this discomfort before the pics, so I don't ruin it/them for everyone else. And, of course, I hope the pics turn out well.

Today's Lesson: Sometimes we think we've done the work to know what we're getting ourselves into. And perhaps we have, to some extent. But often, what we neglect to do, is the work to know what we're getting others into with our decisions. Particularly as it relates to children, who have no say so in any of it.

"Are You Done Yet?"

Lately, I've been fielding more frequent questions about whether we're "done" or we'll "have another" (which, really, I mean why would you ask us that, in that way? And yet, people do...). I should say that these don't feel like judgmental questions, just curious ones. And, while I often think people ask questions that are simply none of their business (including this one), it's also a question I've been processing for myself.

On one hand, sweetbabyjesus how could I parent another child?! I have moments, heck sometimes whole days, when parenting the two we have is overwhelming, and not in the good ways. My temper is short already. The laundry, oh, the laundry. Babies create so much laundry. And I hate laundry. The thought of leaving the stage of family life where things  revolve around naps and strict bedtimes, that's pretty damn attractive. And we're getting close, y'all. So close. Also, and I'll be honest here, the thought of the cost of another adoption, just ugh. I hate that it's something we have to consider, and yet we do.

On the other hand, how could I not want another child?! And a baybeeeeeeeeeee. Oh, how I love babies. The smell. The squishiness of them. The snugliness of them. The nursing (oh, how I miss nursing, and the oxytocin from said nursing). Diapers don't phase me. In fact, I kinda love how cute cloth diapers are on babies (also, that's one load of laundry that doesn't bother me). I parent babies well. And I enjoy it. Like, a lot. OMGeeeeeee I LOVE ALL THE BABIES!!!!!!!

Hubby keeps bringing a 3rd child up in a kidding kind of way. But I know him. And I know that all that teasing is his way of processing it, and ultimately saying he, too, would like another child. Even if he isn't yet ready to admit that to himself, much less say it out loud. Specifically, I think he wants a girl. I find myself surprised to realize that gender - still - isn't a factor for me.

If I could just have babies, I'd have 10 of them. But they grow up, and we all know how that whole parenting older children is going for us (recap: it's a challenge on our best days).

So, I'm left still not sure. And I know it's not one of those things, for us, that has to be decided like now. We have some time, you know, since we're not worried about things like egg quality or increased pregnancy risk. But I do worry that as we get further and further from the baby stage, it will be harder and harder to make the decision to go back. And that makes me want to cry. I can't imagine that I will have no more babies. And, perhaps, that should be my answer.

Maybe.

Or not (the laundry!!!).

Hell, I just don't know.


Today's Lesson: It would be so much easier to just toss the birth control and decide to let the universe decide whether we have another baby. IF makes many things harder. This is one of them.

Birthdays

The kid's birthday is next Sunday. I can't believe he'll be 8. How did that happen?! (And, yes, I know this is a question all parents ask themselves.) He's going to have a superhero-themed party which is going to be pretty cute, if I do say so myself. I'll try to post pics of all that later. (Maybe. If I remember to take any. Yes, I suck.) But, for today, that's not my focus.

For all 3 of baby E's birthdays, at least some members of his birth family have been present. That, however, has not been the kid's experience. He's never had any of his biological family celebrate with us. Certainly we've invited them (every year we've known how to contact them) but I've never gotten so much as a response from the invitations.

In the last year or two, this difference has really started to dawn on him. And, I think, started to bother him. I told you how excited he was last year to get a Christmas card from his birth family. Well last year, he immediately, upon starting to plan for this birthday, asked whether they were going to come to his party. I promised him we'd invite them (and we did) but cautioned him that they have a lot going on (they do) and might not be able to make it (they didn't). He was disappointed, but in his overwhelming excitement about his birthday, he seemed to have forgotten about it.

Baby E has recently been asking about whose belly so-and-so came out of, starting to make sense of some relationships and the basics of babies. And this seems to have brought back up for the kid thoughts and mentions of his birth family. But they're not the same kind of things he was saying last year. Last year, there was excitement when he talked about them. Hopefulness. This year, it's more "I guess they're not going to come again this year" said in this cynical kind of voice. The desire for them to come is still there. But in a "I'm afraid to get my hopes up kind of way". This voice isn't my kid. I don't like it.

I can tell he still wants them to be around (although it's been over 2 years since we've seen them), but seems to have given up on believing they will be. It's so sad. We so wanted to have an open adoption. But, in essence, it's closed. I mean, I am fb friends with his birth mom, but there's no generally no response there when I've attempted. We've sent cards and invitations. I'm not sure what else to do. I'm afraid to push anymore because I don't want to make things harder for them, or, frankly, to piss them off.

I remember sitting on their living room floor, our first meeting. We talked about open adoption and it was obvious they were hesitant. I assumed their hesitation was because they didn't want the kid to be confused about who his parents are (I mean, that's the reason they gave). We assumed him that he would have 2 sets of parents, neither more "real" than the other, each who loved him, and that we would do our best to help him not be confused. But that, really, we needed their help to do that. It felt like we made headway and they were in agreement (over the several months after he was born). But, for a myriad of reasons we'll likely never know or understand, we're back at the beginning.

And I get that this whole adoption thing has got to be so hard for them. And I know that I've no idea how hard or in what ways. So it's not like I fault them, or am angry with them at all. I'm just sad. Sad for them to not get to see who the kid is turning out to be. Sad for the kid to not have that connection that we want him to have. So very sad for him not to have that connection that he clearly wants for himself.

As another birthday for our sweet boy rolls around, I hope his birth parents know that we love him. And that we love them. And that we're here, whenever they're ready for contact. And I really hope that the kid will be open to that, too, whenever they decide they're ready.

Off I go to invite them for the birthday. Again. Perhaps they'll know at least that we're thinking of them. That he's thinking of them. Because he is. Probably more than any of us realize.

Today's Lesson: All we can do is try. And then others decide what they can handle.

We Continue, at Least for Now

This post is part of Mothering's "Blog about Breastfeeding" event to celebrate International Breastfeeding Week, Aug 1st-7th.


There has been little about my and baby E's nursing relationship that anyone would consider traditional. My journey to nurse him started nearly 2 years before he was born. No, it started even earlier than that, when I nursed my oldest son. But with baby E, I was determined to be more successful. There was reading, and research, and appointments with doctors, and meds, and pumping and more pumping), and the ever-present SNS. And all of that before I even knew of his existence. After birth, there was all of that in addition to driving all over the state to pick up breast milk from other mamas to feed my baby.

Nursing baby E has been a blessing and been healing in many ways. But it has also been a challenge. There was baby E's biological father finding out, and demanding that I stop (even though E's birth mama was happy I was nursing him). There have been many times I simply knew that weaning was just around the corner. Or the many times we were nearly out of milk. And then, thanks to the miraculous intervention of one (or more) of our amazing donors, we've been blessed to continue. There have been judgements (both blatantly expressed to me and not) by others about whether we should be nursing at all, or when we should stop. Not that I've ever been particularly interested in the judgements of others', mind you. And heaven knows there have been frustrations with my reliance on the SNS.

Today, I somehow find myself a mama of an almost 3yo nursling. I don't know how it happened, because, in truth, even 3 years ago I never imagined myself here. I never saw myself nursing a child who stops to talk to me between suckles at my breast. I never saw myself nursing a child who requests "mulp-mease" with a joyful - if sometimes demanding - dance before bedtime. All I wanted was to be able to nurture my baby at my breast for longer than what I'd been able to do with his brother. I never dreamed we would still be nursing just shy of his 3rd birthday.

I know we are in the twilight of our nursing relationship. And I find myself (not surprisingly) emotional about it. But I also find myself okay with it. Baby E has lead our nursing relationship the whole way through. I will continue to let him lead us through its end.

Regardless of what nursing baby E looks like from the outside, on the inside, between baby E and me, our nursing relationship is just what it is supposed to be. It's not what I expected. It's not what I saw in my head when I pictured it for all that time I was preparing. It may not be "normal". But its ours. And it is exactly what we each need it to be at this very moment.


Today's Lesson: In many ways I'm not a traditional kind of girl. So I've no idea why I thought nursing would be the thing that was. Life has a funny way of teaching us who we are. And a funny way of making us accept it.

HAWMC Day 15: Swap Day

Today's prompt was to throw your name in the hat and be paired with another HAWMC participant. I post on her blog, she posts on mine.

So, I introduce you to Kirsten. She blogs over at Running for Autism. Kirsten blogs primarily about her role as a parent of a child with autism, about navigating that for him, for herself, and for her younger son (who does not have autism). She also runs. A lot. I should have her give me some tips on how to get on that (although it probably wouldn't help, to be honest). I particularly love this post she wrote, A Letter to Autism. Really, you should go read it. It's beautiful.

Kirsten was also adopted. And I'm super excited to have her share her perspective as an adoptee who (now) has an open relationship with her biological family. Without further ado, Kirsten...

“...and the baby girl went home with her new mommy and daddy and brother, and they all lived happily ever after.”

 “But Mommy,” I would say, in my small little-girl voice, “What about the baby girl’s first Mommy?”

“She was very sad,” my mother would reply softly, “But she knew that her baby girl was going to live with a family who loved her very much, and would always take care of her.”

I don’t know when my parents first told me that I was adopted. I was very young, so young that I do not remember a time when I did not know. There was no mystery about it, no taboo, nothing but complete acceptance and openness. The subject of adoption did not get any special treatment in my family – it was treated with the same frankness and occasional tactlessness as any other topic.

Like the time my brother said to me, during the course of a sibling rivalry incident, “MY birth father is a handsome prince who lives in a castle, and YOUR birth father escaped from prison and lives in a cave.” 

 

(Kirsten and her brother)

 

Or the time when I was about six, when I yelled at my mom, “My other mother has long black hair, and she’s prettier than YOU!” 

“I’m sure that’s true,” said my mom, with an expression that I now recognize as a desperate attempt to stifle a hoot of laughter. 

Because the fact of our adoption was never a big deal in our house, my brother and I never had any angst about it. We were adoptees in the same way that other people are tall or red-haired. It was just a fundamental part of who we were.  

There was, of course, some curiosity about who our birth parents had been. We were adopted in the late sixties and early seventies respectively, and back in those days the concept of “open adoption” hadn’t even been dreamed up. Birth parents and adoptive parents were not allowed any contact with each other. They couldn’t even know anything about each other. There was none of the picking and choosing that goes on today: the matching was done either by adoption agencies or by the child welfare society. 

And so I grew up with no knowledge whatsoever of who and where I had come from. I suspect that this bothered my mom more than it bothered me. I had speech and learning delays as a kid, and in the absence of a family medical history, I think my mom felt a bit at sea. 

I did ultimately meet both of my birth parents, over a decade ago now. There have been a few “aha” moments over the years, when I have recognized where I got some little mannerism or quirk. Meeting them has also, I think, been beneficial to my mom, who is now able to look back on my childhood challenges against the backdrop of my birth parents.  

Now that I am a mom, I am grateful for the fact that I have been able to build friendships with my birth parents. When my older son was born, I peppered both of them with questions about their medical history – questions that they gladly answered. I am in regular contact with them via email and Facebook. I send them pictures of my kids and share stories of my parenting adventures – or misadventures, depending on the day. 

People often ask whether meeting my birth parents affected my relationship with my mom and dad. I guess that, from the perspective of someone on the outside looking in, this is a valid question.  

The simple answer is that my mom and dad have been my mom and dad all my life, and nothing is going to change that. They are the ones who chased the monsters out from under my bed when I was a little girl. They put the Band-Aids on my scraped knees and made sure I did my homework.  They wiped my tears when I cried, reprimanded me when I was naughty, and celebrated with me when good stuff happened. They put me through school and then University, they advised me when it was time to get a job, and they helped me move when I got my first apartment.  

 

(Kirsten's mom and dad)

 

When my firstborn son came into the world, my mom and dad became grandparents. It was my mom I turned to for parenting advice, and my dad was the one I spoke to about future financial planning.  

My birth parents are friends who I happen to have a biological connection with. And they are good, true friends.  

My mom, my dad – may he rest in peace, and my brother: they are family. 

No power in the universe will ever change that.

7 Years

Every year for the last 7 years we've celebrated the Superbowl with the same group of people - our camping friends. We get together, eat good camping food, plan this year's camping trips, and then we leave to put our kids to bed. Well, I mean, I'm sure some people actually stay and watch the game, but I could care less. Yes, even about the commercials. Plus, we really do have to get the kids to bed.

I've told you the last few years why the Superbowl is important to us - it's the day we first met the kid's birth parents, the day we learned that after so many years, we were finally going to be parents. But it was at this same party that we got to finally say out loud what we'd wanted to say for so long. So, the fact that we're still celebrating this day with many of the same people, well, it makes it even more special for me.

Happy Superbowl, bloggy friends. While you're eating good food, watching (hopefully) hilarious commercials, and some (I don't know an appropriate descriptor) football, raise a glass (or a chip) to the kid and his birth family. That's what we'll be doing.

Today's Lesson: Even us non-football people can find something celebratory about the Superbowl.

Not just for me

I, like many of you, followed the news closely about the shooting in Newtown on the day it happened. I managed to be okay for the most part that day, following the developments closely, but not in tears.  Did I want to hug my kids close? Yes. But still I was okay, emotionally removed from the horror. Able to go about my day, knowing my babies were safe.

Until I read this post @ Adoption in the City

I've said before that one of the reasons open adoption is so important to us is because we want the boys' birth families to know that they're okay. More than that, we adamantly believe they have a right to that.

I can't imagine not knowing.  And not just when something like Newtown happens, but all the time. The walking down the street, not knowing if the little kid in front of you might be yours. Or reading about a kid in the paper who has won some kind of award and wondering. Seeing a child on the news died somehow and the punch to the gut, terrified that it's your child.  How painfully hard it must be to wonder. The strength it takes to do that. The strength it takes to live that every day.

It often hits me the different ways adoption is hard. But, this way, it's just not one I'd thought about. I hope the boys' birth families know that if something awful happened to either of them, we would let them know right away.

The night of the shooting, when I finally got home from work, I went into my sons' rooms, as I always do. Only this time when I pulled their covers up and kissed their sleeping heads, I did it not just for me, but for their birth families as well. I whispered that all of their parents love them, because it is what I know to be true.


Today's Lesson: The lessons we're presented with in life never stop. There are always more lessons to be learned.

A Ghost Child

Mel over at Stirrup Queens wrote a beautiful post recently, about her ghost child. It's haunting, and perfectly describes something I've been trying to articulate for myself of late. Please go read it. Then come back.

For those of you who don't follow directions thus didn't go read the post, Mel talks about a recent family trip where she was followed by a ghost child. A child who is only a possibility. Or perhaps, a child who is no longer a possibility. She's reminded that because that child doesn't physically exist, this trip was possible for her family. But also that the carrying of this ghost child prevents her from fully participating in the experience with her family. (Or at least that's what I took from her words.)

I've been grappling with my own ghost child recently. She's reflected in the questions others have started asking about whether we're considering a 3rd child. She's waiting to be nursed as we move towards what feels like baby E starting to wean. She's there, watching, as I wonder what to do with all the things baby E is outgrowing. She's there in the night, when I am startled awake by a newborn's cries. I feel her weight on my chest when I see a friend carrying her newborn in the Moby wrap.

And she is always a she. The dresses. The hair bows. The girly-ness of her. It's painfully palpable at times. She is painfully palpable at times. A shadow. A possibility. A ghost. A question. A maybe.

She's there. Waiting. Waiting for us to decide whether or not she will be. Always there.


Today's Lesson: Sometimes others are better at giving words to our thoughts than we are ourselves.

Oh, so that's why they're doing that Family Tree Project

So, remember the whole Family Tree Project thing? I never did get an answer from her (email, note, phone call as promised - not a one). So I figured the old Parent-Teacher Conference would be a great opportunity to address that. Seems reasonable, right? I thought so. Well, let me just tell you I walked away with about the same amount of information/direction as I walked in with. Which was, well, pretty much nothing.

I repeatedly tried to get her to explain her reasons for doing this project. But she didn't seem to really want to talk about it. I admitted that I was having a difficult time knowing where to start and that we needed some direction. I pointed out the obvious (that the kid was adopted) and that this presented different dynamics in regards to this project. She said - wait for it - that she didn't want any secrets exposed through this project.

I seriously sat there staring at her for what had to of been 30seconds, trying to process what she'd just said and form an appropriate response.  I calmly (pat self on back) explained that we have an open adoption with the kid's birth family but that even if we didn't, there would certainly be no secrets.

She then said - oh, yes, it does get better - that she didn't want him to share "all that stuff". I calmly (again, pat self on back) told her that the kid would be deciding who he wanted to include on his family tree. We are perfectly happy with whatever he decides. Though, truthfully, we'd love him to include his birth family. But that is totally and completely up to him.

She then pulled out a previous student's project and showed it to us. It was the same one she'd shown at that first parents' meeting. She kept saying that student was from Japan, as if that was, like, the same thing as the kid having been adopted.

I'm pretty sure we were speaking different languages. Or something.

Know what I think? I think it's a project she's done for years. She likes it for whatever reason, and that's why she keeps doing it. I asked her a couple of different ways to explain her desired learning objectives/what she wants the kids to learn from it/what she's hoping to see. But I never got an answer. Hubby even tried asking her in his own way. Still there was never a concrete answer. Heck, there was never even a hint of an answer.

You know, I'd so been hoping that she would be able to offer a good explanation, but there was none.

So, here's what we're going to do. My idea is to make a big tree with lots of leaves. The kid can put whatever family members he wants on those leaves. And, to me, family is whoever he decides it is. If he wants to put Mr Frank, our cranky old neighbor who mows his yard at least 2x/week, on there, then that's fine with me. If he wants to only include himself, hubby, me and baby E, I'm also fine with that.

We are going to use it as an opportunity to talk about all the different ways families look. We are going to give him free license to be creative. And that's it.


Today's Lesson: Busy work starts early, when we're still little people. And it's equally as irritating as busy work is when we're big people.

Not what I was supposed to post today

Today's post was supposed to be the Open Adoption Blogger Interview Project post, but my partner and I both seem to have struggled with the dates and didn't get our interviews to each other on time. really, please come back later this week and I'll post it - promise!

Also, it should seem quite obvious that I've kind of given up on NHBPM, too. I wasn't overall crazy about the prompts and with everything else going on, I totally couldn't motivate myself to keep up.  I still have a few that I'm planning to do (in other words, that I've already written and scheduled to post), but otherwise, I may be slacking some. But that's pretty normal for me, at least of late.

I do, however, have a post for you today. I was so excited to be asked to do a guest post for HerKentucky yesterday in honor of National Adoption Month (they're running a series about adoption this month - check them all out). Now, it totally outs us all (names, where we live, etc...), so I'm not sure how long I'll leave the link up here. I've considered outing us anyway, but for the meantime, please avoid using our names, location, etc... here. Thanks! Anyway, here it is Her Kentucky Adoption Series Post.

Today's Lesson: I suck at keeping up with what day it is when my work schedule is all crazy. Like, seriously suck. Even when I have email and facebook reminders.

Newborn Days

As I've mentioned before, our friends who recently had the new baby join their family also happen to be baby E's sitter. As soon as she told me about the baby, she hastened to say that of course baby E would continue to come as always. And though that certainly would make my life easier, I'm not willing to do it. I know how much she (they all) love baby E, but sometimes your own family needs to come first.

When my boys were born, I continued to work some. It was mostly at home, though sometimes going in to the office with baby in tow. And while this worked for me (for the most part), it was a limited amount of time. Keeping E is a full time deal (well, 4 days/week). And he is a toddler who requires full time attention.

But, mostly, this isn't about me, or even baby E. Mostly what I want for my dear friend is to have her time with her baby. I want her to be able to snuggle him on the couch all day (if that's what they want). I want her to be able to nap when he does (if she can). I want her to be able to sit still while she's feeding him and marvel at his beautiful eyes (or catch up on FB, whichever). I want him to be her only focus. I want for her to have the time and space to fall in love with him completely, forge that strong bond. I want for her to get into a groove of knowing her baby and him knowing her. I want for her to have the same time that other mothers have.

If she had given birth to this baby, there would be no question about us needing to find at least temporary other care for E. It would be assumed. And while of course she doesn't have the physical recovery part of this whole new baby thing, she does have the rest of it.

And, so, we're the in the market for a short term childcare solution for baby E. A month or two (hopefully). But, if they need longer than that, I'm perfectly happy to give it. My hope is that she will give herself permission to have this time with him, no guilt. Because they both deserve it.


Today's Lesson: Just because you don't give birth to your child doesn't mean you don't deserve, you don't need!!!!, that time in the early days to learn each other, to be with each other, to love each other. Regardless of how a child comes to join a family, time is needed to forge that bond. Congrats, dear friends. Take your time and love that baby boy!!!

No, you are not getting a baby sister

The other morning the kid noticed several of tubs of baby clothes and stuff sitting in the living room. He nearly screamed with excitement: "Are we going to have a new baby? Am I going to have my new baby sister today?" Now, nevermind that we haven't talked - at all - about adding a 3rd child to our family. I quickly responded that, no, there would be no baby joining our household anytime soon. He groaned in disappointment, then quickly asked why the clothes were out, seemingly not quite believing me.

I explained to him that our dear friends had been chosen by a mother to adopt a baby who was born the day before, that the kid's bff was (finally!) going to be a big brother. The kid grinned from ear to ear and jumped into the air, pumping his fist, "yes!!! He is going to LOVE being a big brother!!" He then, with a not so pleased look on his face, stopped his rejoicing abruptly and quickly asked if the baby was a girl. I told him it wasn't, and his grin and fists pumps returned.

I can't tell you how thrilled I am for my friends. They are some of the most loving, honest, faithful people I know. They have prayed for a child to be added to their family for so very long. I feel so joyful for them. Their son, the kid's bff, is about a year and half younger than the kid. And he has been praying so hard for a baby brother or sister. I can only imagine how giddy he is right now.


Today's Lesson: Apparently my kid still wants a baby sister. The birth of this baby has only brought this back up. And now he won't stop talking about it. Apparently, we better "get on this getting me a baby sister thing".

Secret Revealed

You all cracked me up about the secret! I mean, I feel like it might be a letdown to those of you who don't know me irl. Because, truly, it isn't about me or my family. I mean, we're happy about it and it affects us, but it's not our secret. And that really makes no sense, does it?

I feel like I want to string you along for awhile, just to tease you and make you empathize with me about the torture keeping this secret has been. But, lets be honest, I do hate keeping secrets. A lot. And I have wanted nothing more for the last week and a half than to blab it! So I will. Right now.

Our dear friends (also baby E's sitter, and his godparents) have a new son! He was born the beginning of last week, but didn't come home until this week. They didn't tell really anyone until a couple of days ago. I understand why they didn't want to let the proverbial cat out of the bag until baby boy was home. But it kind of complicated my life (oh my word. I sound beyond self-centered right now!).

First, you know, as I may have mentioned before, I suck at keeping secrets, particularly wonderful ones. And it has been killing me to not be able to share this joyous news with everyone (b/c I'm so happy for them) and especially the friends we have in common (b/c I knew how thrilled they would be for them as well). Of course it wasn't my news to share, so I had to zip it.

But also, as Ms M is E's sitter, I knew we needed to make new plans for him at least short-term. We have so many friends in common that I couldn't send out a fb request for childcare suggestions without at least making everyone question what was going on with them. And because baby's come-home date was a little uncertain for awhile, and because hubby was FREAKING OUT that we wouldn't figure something out, my stress level about it was - at moments - a bit out of control.

So, my excitement for them, the general worry that can come with adoption - especially in the very early days - and anxiety about our childcare plan all led to a general focus on only this in my head. You know, making it really difficult to blog about anything else! And, since I couldn't blog about this, an absence of blogging occurred.

So, that's the secret that I've been dying to spill. A new baby has been born. And he is beautiful. His first mother made the gut-wrenching, difficult decision for my friends to parent him. And he is an oh-so-hairy-and-adorable-and-tiny boy who is already loved by so many people.

And I'm back to blogging. But that's not the exciting part ;)


Today's Lesson: It is a huge relief to share a secret.

The Family Tree Project

To start, school is going okay thus far. The kid is finishing up week 3 and things are okay, not great, but a hell of a lot better than last year. We're working on it and I'll take it for now.

I attended the parents' night last week and we got an assignment I've been dreading. The kid is to make a family tree. There are a couple of reasons why I haven't been looking forward to this.

The first - and really biggest - is I just don't understand the reason for it. Be assured I've emailed the teacher and am awaiting her response to answer this question. I'm hoping it will help give us some direction to take. She's a veteran teacher, so I'm certain the kid isn't the first kid she's had with adoption, or another "non-traditional" family dynamics/compositions. Because the 2nd reason I'm not loving this is that I'm uncertain how to proceed.

First, I just don't get the reasons for this whole thing. I mean, why??? What do children learn from this project. A friend suggested that it is about helping children learn about their own placement in a family, which can be a building block to understanding the structure of society as a whole. That makes sense. However, I still don't think this is an appropriate assignment; this could be taught in a different way.

Families look so different and many won't fit into the traditional "family tree model". There are an infinite ways for families to be composed in addition to the biological mom/dad/2.5 kids approach. There are blended families with step-parents/kids. There are single parent families where the other parent may or may not be known to the child. There are grandparents or other relatives raising children. There are children in foster care or residential facilities. There are children who may or may not know who their biological fathers or mothers are - due to adoption, being conceived as a result of rape, being conceived with donor eggs and/or sperm, or a myriad of other reasons.

Now, because the boys' adoptions are open, and we've had them since birth, we have some of the biological family history. However, it's quite limited, particularly for the kid. So this further complicates matters (if he does want to include his birth family, that is - which I will very much encourage him to do, but, in the end, it's up to him).

I've seen suggestions of using a roots approach (i.e. putting the birth family as the roots and the adoptive family as the branches). But I really - I mean, really - dislike this idea. To me, when I think of roots, I think of something that is hidden under the ground and not seen.While they're vitally important to the tree, I'm not okay with this being where the kid's birth families are put.

Additionally, to me, roots seem like referencing the past. And the boys' birth families are not just a part of their past. They are a part of their present, and hopefully a part of their future.

I do like the idea of using either hearts, leaves, or hands (as leaves) on a tree (no roots of course). Then the kid can write the names of family members and other important people he wants to include. I also like the idea of a big puzzle, with the names of different important people/family members on each piece.

I think what I need is to have some ideas, a few suggestions for the kid on a starting point. Where he decides to go with this is obviously up to him. But I need to get comfortable with it before I can even present it to him. Because the last thing I want is for HIM to be uncomfortable with it.

You have any experience or ideas about this project? I'd love, LOVE to hear (well, you know, read) them!

Today's Lesson: First grade is when shit gets hard, y'all. Man. Or maybe it's that it continues to be hard, just in a different way. Okay, re-framed lesson of the day - parenting is hard.

Mothers' Day

Mothers' Day is an emotional one for many. For those who aren't raising the children to whom they gave birth (for whatever reason)...for those who are still waiting to become pregnant or have a child placed with them through adoption...for those whose mothers have died...for those who are estranged from their mothers...for so many reasons.

This year, it's a difficult one in our house, too. It's the first without MIL. It's hitting hard. It's odd. Usually this is a day where I am kind of the center. But this year, that doesn't seem quite right. Hubby has been trying, but in many ways it's him who our little family needs to focus on. He so misses his mother. And days like Mothers' Day, just come as a slap in the face sometimes.

This Mothers' Day I am thankful. For my own sweet mama. For all the birthmothers in my life (including the boys' beautiful birthmoms, L and R). For my Grandmother (seriously, y'all, she is one amazing woman - remind me to tell you about her one of these days). For the women who care for my boys when I am not with them. For all the other countless women in my life who have mothered me or my children when we've needed it.

And I'm sending out a special prayer for all of you who have arms aching to hold your babies. And for those who are aching to be held in the arms of your own mothers.

Hugs.

Today's Lesson: How lucky I am, how lucky my children are, to have such wonderful mothers in our lives.

Also, for those of you waiting to adopt, or even TTC-ing, here's a great blog post for you.

The Mothers

Today's HAWMC prompt is to write about a memory you have, in third person.

The woman is sitting in the hospital room, holding her baby. Her husband is at her side. She's just finished nursing him. He's so tiny, so sweet. She doesn't know what she's done to deserve this beautiful baby. She waited so long.

She's been in the room all day, tending to their son. Taking in his new baby smell. Twirling his soft, fluffy curls around her fingers. Rubbing her fingers and own cheeks against his, so velvety smooth and soft. Feeling the slight weight of him in her arms, on her chest. Feeling the heavy weight of responsibility for him settle in her happy heart. Listening to his funny little cries, that sound more like a kitten than a baby. Listening to his soft breaths while his head lays on her shoulder, peacefully sleeping.

She hasn't hardly put him down all day. Not even to let her husband hold him. After all this time of waiting for him, she can't imagine letting him go. She feels perfectly content and calm. This is who she is meant to be.

And then his mother walks in the room. Quietly. With both resolve and pain in her eyes. She is being discharged home to her partner and 2 other children. She hasn't seen her son since after she gave birth to him almost 36 hours before. The woman and her husband have kept her updated on him, but it's not the same. And now she is to say goodbye to him.

The woman hands the baby to her. Trying to hold back her own tears. It is hard to know what to say or do. She wants to ease his mother's pain. Wants her to know that she already loves this baby and will be the best mother she knows how to be for him. She wants her to know that she knows his mother loves him, too. That she will make sure he also knows this.

She stays quiet and watches mother and infant watching each other. There seems to be an understanding between the two. The woman doesn't know what they say to each other with their eyes, but it is something. Something that the mother and the baby both seem to understand. A calmness settles over the room.

The mother hands her son to the woman, who is now also this child's mother. At least that seems to be what she is trying to tell the woman without saying a word. The two mothers share a long embrace. They each love this baby. Neither seems to have the words to tell the other what she wants her to know. The joy of one mother, and the pain of both mothers, they are all mixed up in the small room. It is palpable.

The baby starts to root, hungry again.

The mother takes one more look at her baby. Nods her heads towards the husband. Pats the woman on her arm. The woman kisses her son's other mother on the cheek. There are no more words to be said.

The mother leaves the room.

The woman cries as she feeds their baby. She is finally a mother. But at what cost to this other woman, her son's other mother? She is fairly certain she will ever know.


Today's lesson: Adoption is ever so complicated.

Learned the Hard Way

Today's HAWMC post is to write about a lesson you learned the hard way.


I was having a conversation with some friends the other day. We were talking about some girl (I don't even remember who she was) who is talented in many ways - athletically, musically, academically. The others were talking about what a lovely girl she must be, how awesome for her to be good at so many things. And all I could think was, "it's going to be really hard for her when she eventually hits against something that she's not good at, because it will happen. And it's going to knock the wind out of her in a most surprising - and sucky - way".

I think I've mentioned before that most things came pretty easily to me when I was younger. School was always easy (still is). I wasn't one of the "popular kids" but didn't struggle socially. Sure, my parents were divorced and that came with its own difficulties. But, overall, childhood, adolescence and young adulthood were pretty straightforward and without an overabundance of strife.

I'd always been able to achieve anything I wanted to. If I decided I was going to do something, that I wanted to achieve something, then I did. It really was about that simple. And things went along in the order I'd assumed they should (college, marriage, job, dog, house).

Enter infertility.

Infertility taught me, among a plethora of other things, that just because I want something, doesn't mean I'll get it. I can do everything I'm "supposed" to do, and still, things may not work out like I want them to.

Now, this may seem like an obvious lesson to many of you, but it wasn't to me. I really grew up with the belief that if I just worked hard enough, prayed enough, did all the right things, talked it out enough, was stubborn enough, etc... it would be mine. I'm not sure who would have told me this (though someone obviously did at some point) but my experiences in life up until that point certainly reiterated that errant belief.

How I wish this was a lesson I could have learned an easier way, on something I didn't want quite so much. Not that IF would have sucked any less necessarily, but perhaps it would have been a little less painful. Perhaps I might have accepted it sooner, saving myself some pain, moving on to adoption earlier. Perhaps, if nothing else, it would have been a bit less shocking to know that I couldn't simply will something to happen.

Today's lesson: We are all the sums of all of our experiences. And I realize  that if we had moved to adoption sooner, probably we wouldn't have the kid, who I wouldn't trade for anything. So it's hard to wish things had happened any differently. And yet, to have ended up with the same result, but with a somewhat less painful path, that seems good. Unlikely, but good.

Guest Post: Family

Today you get a bonus 2nd post. Now, this is nearly unheard of here, but I couldn't not do it. You see, I have a most amazing friend. She is loving, devoted, hilarious, persistent, smart, beautiful, compassionate. And, to top it off, she has this ability to chose really good friends. Who are also funny. Ha!

One thing many people around her don't know, is that she is a birth mother. She made a choice many years ago to find a family for her daughter because she wasn't in the position to give that sweet baby girl the life she wanted her to have. Today is that baby girl's birthday. She's no longer a baby, but she is still my friend's daughter. And my friend thinks of her every. single. day. She loves her. And these are some words my friend wanted to share on this day, the anniversary of the day her daughter was born, when she became a mother, and a birth mother.

Family: what makes up a family? A mom, dad and child.  Sometimes there are more people involved like other siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousin, pets, etc. Sometimes it is any uncountable combination of any of the above and then some that make up a family.  Some families come to be the traditional way and some not so much.  There are many circumstances that create a family and one of them is adoption.  That’s what I want to talk about today.  Especially today.

Even today, adoption can be a dirty word.  Something that people just don’t like to talk about.  There is still a stigma attached to the word adoption about the birth mother; she is selfish or she was promiscuous.  There are many more, but it makes me too sad to think about.  The one statement above that really gets under my skin is that she was selfish.  I am sure there are some mothers that give up their child for very selfish reasons.  But I choose to believe that there are many, many more that give their child up for the right reasons that are filled with so much love and wanting so much more for your child than you can possibly give.  This decision does not come easily and comes with agonizing thoughts of what if, but mostly, is overwhelmingly full of love.    

My best friends in the world have the most beautiful family with two of the most adorable little boys that are the lights of their lives.  They both are adopted.  Now that I stop for a minute and think about it, I have just as many friends that have wonderful and loving families the nontraditional way (adoption) as I do the “traditional way”.  This does not make them different, or special, it just makes them a family.  And, really, that is all that matters in life. 

I just ask, today especially, that the next time you hear that someone is adopted or that someone has made a sacrifice so great that that you simply could not imagine, don’t judge.   Those birth moms out there, no matter how they came to their decision, they never forget and never stop loving.  Any way you come about making your family, I am sure it’s about love. 

Today's Lesson: I think my friend has this one covered. Love you, sweet friend.

The Superbowl

Last year I told you why the Superbowl is special to us. In short, it was on Superbowl Sunday that we first met the kid's birth parents. It was on Superbowl Sunday that we realized that - like, for real! - we were going to be parents. And soon. It was on Superbowl Sunday that we, for the first time, were able to say that we were "expecting", that, in fact it would be mere days before we would be parents. It is one of those days that I will never forget. It is a day that while the rest of the country gorges itself on food, I sit and smile, remembering the best gift I've ever been given. Hope, joy, parenthood, my sweet kiddo.

Last year, I wrote this:
"So today, on Superbowl Sunday, I celebrate for a different reason. I could care less about some football game. Honestly, I have no idea who's even playing. I don't even care that much about the commercials. Today I chose to remember the way my life changed in the biggest way. And the people who made that possible. L and D, where ever you are, today I thank you and send you extra gratitude, love and prayers."

This year, things are a little different. We know where L and D are. We've seen them and they've seen the kid. But the sentiments are the same. I thank them and hope they know how much we love and appreciate them.

For the record, I still don't know who is playing. And I still could care less. Yes, even about the commercials.

Today's lesson I will repeat from last year's - some things are worth celebrating. The day you learned you were going to be a parent is one of them. To add to that, I'm so glad you and the rest of the country is also celebrating with us ;)

This One Time...

A post from another blogger (CallMeMama) reminded me of a similar experience I had when the kid was a newborn. And I felt compelled to share it with you.

I was in my 2nd semester of grad school to get a Masters of Social Work when the kid was born. (Side Note: Yes, working full time, going to grad school almost full time, and parenting a newborn does suck. Big time.) I skipped my classes the first week he was born because, well, I mean, wouldn't you? And my professors were wonderfully understanding. One actually went so far as to order me to not come in. I adore her to this day for that.

When the kid was about 10 days old, though, I went to class. I, as I think most new parents would do, took in a few pics of my darling babe. At the beginning of class I passed them around and shared some basic info. I mean, we'd been in class together for only a few weeks and though none of us knew each other well, they did know me well enough to know that I hadn't been pregnant 2 weeks prior. So, I told them that we were adopting him and thrilled beyond words to have been chosen by his birth parents to be the parents who would raise him.

Most everyone oo-ed and awe-ed over my baby kid (as they should have because, I mean, he was freaking adorable). One girl, however, kind of freaked out, wanting to know why we had a black baby. She, too, was black and didn't think we, as white parents, should have this baby. I explained that we didn’t decide to parent a “black baby” (her words). We wanted to be parents and were open to whatever child came to us/was meant to be part of our family. We were chosen by the kid's birth parents and the difference in our races didn't bother them. I said that it was their decision, not hers. And if she had a problem with it, then I recommend she look into adoption herself. The rest of the graduate level social work class nodded their heads in agreement and we went on.

Fortunately, that was nearly 6 years ago and it’s been the only experience of that kind that we’ve had. However, it’s hard to feel like you have to “justify” your family. And what I know now, is that I don't actually have to justify my family to anyone. But I didn't know that then. Now, I decide when presented with situations whether I will let things be, or whether I will take the opportunity to educate people about adoption in general or transracial adoption specifically. I used to just babble on and on about it. Now I tend to be much more judicious about what I say. I used to probably tell a lot of my son's story. Now I realize that his story is his own. And that means that he gets to chose what to tell others. Not me.

On the flip side, I feel like it's so very important how I respond to adoption related comments and questions. Because he's there, always listening. And how I respond to questions - whether I'm uncomfortable, or how much I chose to share, or whether I am respectful  - affects how he thinks about adoption (his own, his brother's, and in general). It also affects how/what he thinks about himself. I have to be so much more intentional in the words I choose to say, and with those choose to share with others. Because he has big ears.

So, when I think about the incident that happened almost 6 years ago, I wonder how I would respond to such a thing now. I think I'd probably say about the same thing, if he weren't there. I don't know how I'd react and what I'd say if he was. I think I'd better figure it out. Because I suspect that it's just a matter of time before it happens. And I need to have my ducks in a row, so that I project confidence. So that he knows we can talk about adoption, that it is a safe topic. And that he only has to share the information he wants to share.

I have a post brewing in my head about the reasons why I think this woman had such a strong reaction. I think it's multi-faceted with cultural and historical components. Will let ya know when I get that cranked out.

Today's lesson: I'll leave you with the words of that adorable kid. The sweetness of the apples is only topped by the sweetness of the love my brother gives me in his kisses. Sometimes the heart nearly bursts from the amount of love in it. This, is a most wonderful feeling.