Today, here's where we are...

Yesterday I did talk with the social worker. She was working a charity event on Monday - I'd hoped she taken a personal day to do something fun for herself. Alas, like the rest of us, she was working. She said she'd spoke with the birthmom, herein referred to as R., who said she knew where birthdad is (I don't know his name). So, the good news is, we now know how to find him. She was going to try to get an appointment set up with him in the next day or so. So, more waiting. Grrr.

I also asked her a couple of questions and got the answers I expected. What happens if R. goes into labor before the social worker is able to talk with him? - they'd have a couple of days, while she was in the hospital, to continue to attempt contact. However, if they still were unable to do so before she and the baby were due to be released, the baby would probably go into a temporary foster home. Again, what we expected, but kind of sucks. Our other question was what would happen if she does talk to him and he just refuses to agree to the adoption plan. L. said that she will present him with the 2 options, neither of which is the possibility that he will parent this baby; either we will or R. will.

**NEWS FLASH** Just as I was typing that last sentence, L called. She said they have an appointment set up with him tomorrow afternoon. 1pm. She assured me she'll call me after she talks with him. In some ways, this is good. I know we're not going to know anything until at least (I'm going with) 3pm tomorrow. On the other hand, we now have to wait an additional 24hrs to even potentially know anything. Because, if he won't agree to it tomorrow, she'll go back and talk with him the next day as well, to see if he's changed his mind. And he can refuse, and that means this won't happen. It means that R. will parent this baby.

So, continued prayers for all of us involved in this - R., birthdad, L., hubby and me, the kid, the baby - would be very much appreciated. Stay tuned til tomorrow afternoon to see what we find out...

Today's lesson was going to be (thanks to my momma) that you never know how you'll help someone, but my mind isn't able to fit that in right now. So, it's a repeat from the last one - sometimes all you can still do is wait. And, yes, the waiting still SUCKS!

Lack of an Update

Today I have absolutely nothing to tell you. I called our social worker only to hear a message on her machine saying she wasn't in today. AAAHHHHHH!!!!! I left a message. Hopefully we'll hear from her tomorrow. For the love of pete, we'd better hear from her tomorrow.

Hubby and I both seem to really be struggling to focus on anything at all. Fortunately he has a student teacher in his classroom to pick up the slack! I have some wonderful co-workers who are trying to help me focus. I'm not sure how successful they've been though. We've not yet told the kid about any of this, so we're kind of talking in code and trying to keep him unaware for the time being. It seems a successful endeavor thus far.

That's it. That's all. More waiting...

Today's lesson - sometimes waiting is all you can do. And it sucks.

Funny Things the Kid Says

I thought I'd share some funny things my kid has said lately (mostly because I need a distraction - can't imagine there's any chance I'll sleep tonight or be productive tomorrow. I'm planning to call the social worker if I haven't heard from her tomorrow afternoon. Here's hoping I, heck hubby too, can make it til then!! Also, thanks so much for all your thoughts and prayers. I know they've made the biggest difference. We've spent the weekend cleaning the whole house and getting the nursery mostly ready, just in case.)

"Momma, did you know I'm super funky? Well, I am. I don't know why. God just made me that way. Super funky. Yup, that's me alright."

(Coming out of his room from his nap) "Snap, snap. Snap, snap. That's what I said. Snap, snap. Snap, snap, people."

"Just call me snap-snap-zoom-zoom. 'Cause I'm cool like that. Zoom-zoom-zoomy-zoom-zoom. I'm speedy people."

"I have a toe claw like a [some kind of dinosaur whose name I can't remember]. It's the smartest dinosaur ever and I'm smarter than Jonah [the dog], so it's the same thing."

This one requires some additional prestory. One of the things I did this weekend was get the breastpump ready since I'll hopefully be needing it soon. I had all the parts and pieces out, cleaning them, making sure I didn't need to get any replacement pieces. The kid was asking a lot of questions about what it was and how it was used. I sat everything in the nursery and walked out to get something, thinking he was right behind me. When I returned to the room, the kid had his shirt pulled up with the breastpump attached in the correct places. I said, "whacha doin', bug?". He said, "I'm just sittin' around here". "What for, bug?" "Well, Momma, I'm just sittin' and waitin' for my momma milk to come in. I figure it'll be here soon since I got this thing workin' and all."

That kid just cracks me up.

Today's lesson is that sometimes when you explain things to a 4yo, you should probably include seemingly obvious details. Like breastmilk only comes out of mommas. Not 4yos. Not even if they have the breastpump hooked up in the right way.

Today

Today I was going to write about something, but it can wait til tomorrow. Compared to what today is really about, it's unimportant.

So, today I remember the day our lives changed as a country. Today I remember where I was when things turned upside down. Today I remember disbelief. Today I remember driving to work, hearing of the first plane. Today I remember telling my coworkers. Today I remember their faces and words of disbelief. Today I remember watching the second plane. Then hearing of the third. Today I remember first thinking what a horrible accident. Today I remember the horror when I realized that it was not an accident. Today I remember when we all slowly realized that it was not an accident. Today I remember loss of innocence. Today I remember the fear. Today I remember the grief. Today I remember those who died. Today I remember those who survived. Today I remember those still affected. Today I remember those who were lost. Today I remember the sadness.

Today I remember. Today the lesson is that I will always remember.

Vacation

One of hubby's primary concerns, well the one he can articulate at the moment, is about a vacation we have planned. It's scheduled to take place a couple of weeks after the baby is due. Well, it seems unlikely that we'd want to take a 1-2 week old infant 8 hours away. But we haven't had a vacation in 4 years!!!! We're really overdue for some family away time.

So, this morning hubby emailed the condo owner and explained the situation. You won't guess how the man replied. He said he was adopted and "it is always special to me to hear the joyous news of adoption". I mean, REALLY??!!! He assured us that he's happy to move the dates without financial penalty. He also said he'd be praying for and thinking of us. Check.

It reminded me of how all the checks just fell into place with the kid. They were different kinds of checks (a crib, a dresser, etc...) but they were checks. It's amazing how things sometimes can work out, if you have a little faith, and don't get in the way.

And again, all I'm left with is "crap y'all".

(Non) Update

For those of you wondering, we've not heard anything new today. I suspect it may be a few days before we do hear anything else, so they have time to talk with the birth father. I've thought of all kinds of questions I would like answered (has she had good prenatal care, is baby a boy or girl, where will she deliver, was there any substance use, etc...), but those questions seem unimportant until this stuff is worked out with the birth father. So, here I sit, accomplishing nothing, thinking, trying not to think, planning, trying not to plan, hoping, trying not to hope too much, laughing at poor hubby who is really freaking out, wanting to talk of nothing but this possibility, wanting not to talk about it. What a day.

Today's lesson - be careful what you ask for!

What a Day!!

Crap, y'all. It's been a day. Started off with the kid and I on the wrong foot. He woke up too early because he peed in the bed (suggestions on how to help him stop this would be seriously welcomed!) and was really whiney. I apparently woke up on the wrong side of the bed and kind of lost it with him because I don't do well with whiney. We both took a well-earned time out and proceeded to school, late, of course. And being late always gets me cranky.

Then I found out that some people I used to know pretty well were arrested in a drug bust early this morning. Their kids were there and had to witness it. While I'm not exactly surprised, I am really sad about it, for them and their kids...for them having never had a good chance at being anywhere other than where they ended up...for the likelihood that their kids will also end up there.

Then I decided that I was going to call a different adoption agency, just to get some info, because we are really OVER this wait. Seriously, 18 months is too long, I'm over it. That was a really good conversation. The lady told us that they typically place within 6-12 months. However, when I told her some additional information, like that we already have a son who is African American and want another child who is as well, she thought we would have a baby within (get ready for it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) 3-4 WEEKS. That is 3-4 weeks from when they do a home study update, so realistically about 5-7 weeks from now! That's huge, right??!

And then, I decided to call our social workers just to see what they had to say, what they know about the agency. When I called the first time neither of them were there. So I decided I'll just call back tomorrow. But then I decided to call back, just to leave a voice mail. I was surprised by L, one of our social workers, actually answering the phone (shocked because really, they're hardly ever there). We chatted a few minutes and she actually said she's been reading the blog (Hi, L!) and wants to share some of it with the current potential adoptive parents group. I'm so honored that she feels like what I have to say is... I don't know...valid? good enough? I don't know. I'm certainly humbled and so appreciative that she feels like it will be helpful to others!

So then (I know - can you believe there's more??!) I asked her about the other agency and she had good things to say, but hesitantly asked me if we might be willing to wait a few weeks before sending them our info. I said I guessed that was fine. She said there are a couple of situations. She asked if I wanted to know more. I said "yeah", but I was thinking something more along the lines of "Hell YES!". Turns out we've been picked by a birth mother! Holy crap, people! This is IT! Well, maybe, but it's certainly HUGE!!!! She explained that she hadn't called us yet because the birth father is currently MIA and he has to be found before we can really do anything. They need to know his feelings and intentions. He does know she's pregnant and there's reason to believe he also does not want to parent this baby. However, until L actually talks to him, we really don't know anything.

As my friend and co-worker T. said, I'm trying to stay in a state of quiet excitement. I don't want to get too excited in case this isn't our baby, for whatever reason. But I also feel like maybe I am ready to have some hope again. It feels safe to hope and that is such a relief. We have some movement at least.

I'm asking for prayers, supportive thoughts, positive mojo, good vibes, whatever - not just for us, but for this birth mother and for this baby. What we want is that she is able to do whatever it is she really feels is best for her and her child, whether that be for the baby to be parented by us or her, or someone else. I know my thoughts and prayers are with her (and L - that she's able to find this birthdad and get somewhere with him).

Today's lesson, maybe, just maybe, sometimes signs really are signs and not just in your head. And maybe, just maybe, I should trust them and have a little more faith.

P.S. Um, important detail - yeah, the baby's due 9/24. Yeah, that's right about 2 weeks. And I repeat, crap, y'all.

Do this, don't do that. Can't you read the signs?

When I was in the midst of my infertility, and still trying to get pregnant, I used to play all kinds of games with myself just to cope. The "games" I used to play most often were looking for signs and making deals. I looked for signs in everything."By the time I finish this bottle of prenatal vitamins, I'll be pregnant." "Before this client has her baby, I'll be pregnant." "Once hubby and I get through this rough patch, we'll get pregnant." "If I just calm down and enjoy this vacation, we'll get pregnant." "The next time a butterfly lands on me will mean that the baby is on it's way." Bargains between me and God. Seems I forgot to mention it to God though, as it never worked.

But I find myself doing this again now. It never happened with the kid, I think because there really was no waiting. This time that's all there seems to be. So now I find myself bargaining again and looking for signs. "By the time I finish this bottle of vitamins, our baby will be here." "Our baby will come before all these pregnant women around me have theirs." "Once I get a new job and get settled, our baby will be born." "When we go out of town, we'll get 'the call'." "That girl was in my class when the kid was born and I haven't seen her since. It must be the sign." "The new priest at our church was actually the priest at the church we were attending when the kid was born." All kinds of crazy, arbitrary events and deals that seem to signify to me that our baby is on his or her way. All kinds of anxiety and wasted time thinking about and looking for signs that really mean nothing.

I think all of this is my way of trying to make sense out of what we're going through, and my way of trying to exert some kind of control. We just have to deal with certain situations, or get something accomplished to "be ready" for our baby, or once we pass these "tests" we'll prove that we're ready and able. And what my brain knows is that this whole sign stuff is probably just silly. That there's nothing I can do to make this go any faster. It's God's timeline, not mine, so coming up with arbitrary events or deadlines does nothing but make me even crazier. Yeah, my head gets that, my heart doesn't. My heart just won't go along with the rationale that I have no control over any of this. That thought just makes my heart drop into the pit of my stomach where my brain can't reach it.

Today's lesson - it sucks to feel like you have absolutely no control over your life. This is probably related to why toddlers have so many tantrums - they recognize that life is full of choices, but they aren't allowed to make many for themselves. Excuse me while I go have a smallish sort of tantrum.

Camping: Why I hate and love it

We just returned from a weekend camping trip. As I was laying on the air mattress (we don't exactly rough it) trying to go to sleep one night, I was trying to remember why I love camping. Because, really I do. But, if you know me at all, it doesn't make sense. See, many common components of camping are things I really and truly hate. For one, I hate sweating. Like, really hate it. For another, while mosquitoes adore me (as in if there's one in the tri-state area in December, it will find and make a meal of me), the feeling is not mutual. Another, I can't sleep when there's noise going on. We bring a fan to help with this. Heck, I also take Tylenol PM, and sometimes a drink or two to help with this, but all that doesn't exactly negate the noise factor. Also, I don't sleep well if the air mattress isn't inflated just perfectly, which it usually isn't. There's also the icky bathroom situation. I mean, we don't go anywhere without a real bathroom, but still, if you have to wear shoes and avoid the walls at all costs, it's just yucky. There's also being dirty, smelling of smoke and bacon (I HATE bacon!! Whatever, I don't care if you think that makes me weird. I just can't stand it.) and bug spray. And my kid gets up at the crack of dawn (hello, 5:30am). And ALLERGIES!!!!!! Oh, I hate them.

So, remind me...why do I like camping??! Okay, well, here are a few reasons I came up with while the people a few sites over were partying until the crack of dawn and keeping me awake. It's like the best excuse to just sit around and do nothing. And those of us who are a little Type A, well, we need that excuse. I only feel a little guilty about it, whereas if I were at home, I just couldn't do it at all. also, I really do love the beauty of nature. Also, when I do have a good night of sleep while camping, it's really good. Also, camping is a chance to spend time with people I don't often get to see. It's about the only time hubby and I get to sit down and play a board game together.

Here's the biggest reason I love camping. It's because of my kid. That's not really a surprise, right? But, here's why specifically. I know he loves being outside. Mostly, though, I know with all of my professional knowledge, and my momma brain, that being outside is in his absolute best interest. I heard a talk once by a noted child psychiatrist and/or pediatrician (yeah, I should remember his name, but I don't). He talked about how in many ways our kids are actually UNDER stimulated. We usually think of them as being overstimulated, right? Too much TV, video games, computer time, etc... But what he was saying, and it didn't really resonate with me at the time, was that being outside is incredibly stimulating, and in all the right ways. There's the grass beneath their feet, the breeze on their cheeks, the sun on their skin, the sound of all the critters, dirt to taste, and places unknown - and best of all real - to explore. There is fine motor stimulation, gross motor stimulation, opportunities to balance, track sounds, and discover new textures. They get to use all of their senses all at once. And that, my friends, is the right kind of stimulation.

So, that's why I love camping. That and it wears the heck out of my kid. Can you say 7:30 bedtime tonight?! Woohoo!! Hubby just also reminded that our love of camping was also one of the reasons the kid's birth parents chose us - that's, he said, a pretty damn good reason, too.

Today's lesson is my list of some of my camping musts - twice as many clothes as you think your kid (and you) will need; more blankets than you ever thought necessary as who knows when it might be in the 40's at night and that's freaking cold when you're in a tent; sidewalk chalk - it's great for entertaining adults and children alike; and flip flops for the icky showers. Oh yeah, and don't forget the alcohol and Tylenol PM. And if you have some extra, share them liberally with your neighbors and friends!

Parents, lock up your daughters

People, you have no idea how much my kid loves teenage girls. Actually, it's more like about age 11 to age 24. I don't mean he kind of thinks they're fun because they think he's cute and pay attention to him. I mean stopping-in-the-middle-of-the-street-and-staring-at-them-mouth-agape-as-they-walk-along-kind-of-way. I mean making-up-14-imaginary-teenage-sisters-who-live-in-the-basement-kind-of-way. I mean running-around-like-a-crazy-person-when-he's-at-my-office-having-a-difficult-time-formulating-complete-coherent-sentences-because-there-are-pretty-girls-who-work-there-kind-of-way. I mean being-fascinated-with-stripping-clothes-off-barbie-dolls-kind-of-way. I mean interrupting-Gram-when-she's-reading-a-book (which is one of his absolute favorite things to do)-to-get-ready-for-a-fictional-date-with-fictional-girls-whose-names-he-doesn't-know-kind-of-way. I mean waving-and-grinning-and-pretending-to-be-shy-with-high-school-girls-on-the-school-bus-next-to-us-at-a-stoplight-and-saying-how-the-girls-want-to-marry-him-kind-of-way. I mean dumping-his-friends-as-soon-as-a-girl-comes-into-the-vicinity-kind-of-way. I mean dumping-his-MOMMA-as-soon-as-a-girl-comes-into-the-vicinity-kind-of-way.

If it's this bad now, I'm terrified of what puberty will bring. And, even though it's cute now to most of the girls, I fear it will become stalker-ish as he gets older. So, I'll enjoy his love of females, and foster it so he (HOPEFULLY!) won't become creepy but will instead respect women for the fabulous creatures we are.

Today's lesson? If you see an adorable 4yo staring at you out in public, it might be my kid and is definitely because he thinks you're beautiful. Smile back at him. It'll make his day!

The anti-adoptionists

Every once in awhile I start reading other adoption blogs. Mostly I find them comforting, to know that other people are struggling in the same way I am, or did and made it through. To read blogs written by birth mothers who have open relationships with their children's families - this gives me hope that my kid's first family will come back around at some time, and that they're doing okay. Sometimes, however, I end up on what I call anti-adoption blogs. These are written mostly by women, birth mothers/first mothers, who either regret their choice of adoption for their child, or feel like they were never really given a choice - they were backed into a corner where it was their only option. Today I'm going to write about them. Today I'm going to write to them.

Before reading those blogs, it never occurred to me that people could so hate the whole idea of adoption. Some of them call it the institution or industry of adoption. They suggest, no they flat out say, that adoption is all about making money for agencies. Obviously, I only intimately know my own experience with adoption, as a mother through adoption, though I do have a friend who chose adoption for her daughter. I completely understand hating adoption if you were forced into it. If, like happened 30 years ago, you were sent to a maternity home in secret, gave birth, but were never allowed to see your child, having no idea what happened to him/her. I get hating it then. I have a hard time believing that that kind of thing still happens. Maybe I'm just naive? That's certainly possible.

I think the thing that most upsets me about this faction of people, is that I don't want to be a part of anything that causes so much pain for someone. In my heart, I believe the kid's birthfamily did what they truly believed was best for them, the kid, and their 2 other kids (who they were, and are, parenting). However, when I read of the pain, and hate, some birthparents have, it makes me unbelievably sad. And it makes me feel a little bit guilty.

Throughout our whole process, it was supremely important to me that the first family of our child make the decision to place their child for adoption only if that was truly what they felt was in their child's and their own best interest. I didn't want them to do it only because they didn't have the financial resources to parent, because there are resources available; finances should never be the reasons someone chooses not to parent. I didn't want them to do it because they didn't have the social support system they needed or the know-how to parent, because there are agencies whose job it is to provide education and support. Yeah, I don't really know what reason I wanted them to have. What I do know is regardless of how painful our infertility was, and how strong our desire to parent was/is, I would never want to cause this kind of pain to someone else just to address my own.

I don't know what I want first parents to take away from this. Maybe I want them to know that I would never want your child so much that I would participate in stealing him/her away from you. Maybe I want them to know that when I say I want an open relationsip with you, I mean it with my whole being; I would never say it just in an attempt to get you to choose us to raise your child. Maybe I want them to know that I, too, grieve for the loss I know you must be experiencing. Maybe I want them to know that I want the best for you, even if that means you don't choose us to parent your child, even if that means you will parent your child after you've already told us you want us to. Maybe I want them to know that I support parents in raising their children and will continue to do so. Maybe it means that I want you to be okay - and not for my sake so I don't feel guilty at all, and not for your child's sake, but for your own sake.

Today's lesson has nothing to do with the above. Here it is - the word "funk" and the other 4-letter "f-word" sound very similar when coming out of a 4yo's mouth. When you're in doubt, you should not yell "what did you just say???!!!!!" because then said 4yo will said, "funk. What did you think I said?" and you will have a difficult time coming up with a plausible answer that will satisfy him.

No more biting

I wanted to thank you all for your support and kind comments. One friend even offered a parenting support hotline, which I was totally going to call. But then I remembered that I'd lost my cellphone as part of that crappy day (did I mention the kid also puked in the car that morning - yeah bad day), and that we don't have a home phone, and then hubby's phone died and was in need of charging. So, I didn't get to call. However, the being in his room all day and complete loss of privileges seems to have been effective - at least for now. He apparently had a fantastic day at school yesterday and was pretty good at home, though was really wound up. Though he still isn't expressing feeling any regret about biting the kid on Friday, he does feel sad, guilty, and ashamed about biting his friend Tuesday. I figure this is progress, right?

While we're still not at all sure what's going on with him, I am sure it will come out sooner or later. And, as my momma pointed out, all we can do is take it one day at a time.

Today's lesson - biting is bad. Oh, what? You think you already knew that? Well, I thought my kid already knew it, too. I just figure it's a good reminder for all of us.

Parenting frustrations

I'm sitting here crying, as I listen to my kid cry, pitifully, in his room. I've banished him there until his Poppa gets home so we can discuss the situation that led to all this crying (and the crying of another kid, too). You see, my kid has become the dreaded "biter" at school, you know the kid the other parents don't want their kids to play with, the one the other kids start to avoid. Okay, so maybe it hasn't gotten that bad yet, but that's where I'm afraid it will go. This is the 2nd time in 3 school days that we've gotten an email stating our kid has bitten someone else's kid. And I am overwhelmed. I'm embarrassed. I'm horrified. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm confused. And I'm an adult. I can only imagine what's going on in his head. Actually, I wish I did know what is going on in his head so we could deal with it and stop the biting.

The kid is very oral, has been since he was born. But he has never been a biter (unless you count the 2 times he bit me when he was nursing - he was only 5 months old so I'm thinking this is a different kind of monster). I just want to know what precipitated all this! Why has he all of the sudden started biting, especially considering he really is well past the developmental stage where kids start to bite. The first time he bit last week, it was a kid who, according to the teacher, is annoying (she actually said she didn't blame him, though we all agree that biting is, of course, not acceptable ever). However, the kid he bit today is one of his best school buddies. I just don't get it!

The director of his school said that it doesn't matter why they do what they do; we just have to "come down hard so he knows the behavior is unacceptable". And while I agree that he does need to know it's unacceptable, I also think it's important to know why he's doing it. The reasons he's giving me seem silly ("I didn't want [the other child] to do my work with me"). In the past he's always used his words to express that - really, the kid is excellent with his words. There's something in my gut telling me that something just isn't right. And we need to figure it out, for him, and for his poor potential victims. There's also something in my gut telling me we're not handling this right, and that the way the director is suggesting we handle it also isn't right (for my kid). I'm completely against biting him back, as some people suggest, because I think that only condones the biting. But I just don't know what IS the answer.

For now, he's in his room, as I said, until hubby gets home and we can further discuss this as a family. He gets no toys and only two books (so he doesn't completely destroy his room). He's also going to miss out on a swim party with friends scheduled for this weekend ("if you're biting your friends, it tells me that you can't be around them") which has really upset him. But I just don't know what else to do.

Today's lesson - parenting and kids are funny (funny ironic, not funny haha, at least not today). Just when you think you're on to something, or are doing something well, they're there to teach you that you actually know very little. Parenting is humbling, and in my opinion, more so than anything else in the world.

In case you're wondering, he's no longer crying. He's now jumping off his bed and yelling. He seems to be having quite a good time. Awesome. And I am now more on the side of irritation than sadness. Where is his Poppa...???!

An envelope

I start to freak out every time I see we have an ecru colored envelope in the mail. My pulse speeds up. My heart starts to pound. My breathing becomes shallow and increased. Then I look at the envelope. My heart drops down to my toes. Sometimes my eyes well up. Mostly, I get angry at myself. Because, see, what those ecru envelopes do is start to make me hope. Why? It's because our adoption agency sends things to us in ecru envelopes. And sometimes, just sometimes, those envelopes contain information about "situations" (aka information about birth families who are considering making adoption plans for their babies), asking whether we are interested in being considered by the birth families.


And what's wrong with hope? Well, let me just tell you, since you asked and all. It's just that it's not helping at all right now, that's what's bad about it. Every time I see those envelopes, my mind, no matter how I try to control it, immediately goes to "oh this is it! This is our baby!!!!". And there it is, that spark, or flame, of hope. And then it comes crashing down as soon as I realize it's only our monthly bank statement (btw, screw PNC Bank for using the same color envelopes). Or, it IS actually from them (like happened yesterday), but it's only a request for updated vet records for our dog. Seriously, that just sucked.


And all hope does is keep me on the rollercoaster. Those of you who have experienced infertility will know exactly what I mean about the rollercoaster. With TTC (trying to conceive, for all you non-infertility folks), it's a monthly thing, where you hope all month, do what you're supposed to do to get pregnant, hope and pray and pray and hope, and then your period is a day late, and you REALLY start hoping and praying, only to have the hugest letdown ever (well, since the previous month at least). You grieve for a bit, then you jump back on the damn rollercoaster and start all over again.


So, that's what the ecru envelopes represent for me, specifically that day when your period is late, and the subsequent crashing down. When we decided to stop ttc-ing and move to adoption, it was because I couldn't handle that rollercoaster anymore; I thought adoption would take us off that crazy ride. And, the first time, it did. But it seems it's back, that up-and-down vomit-inducing misery. How awesome.

Today's lesson? Rollercoasters aren't all that fun. Oh yeah, and do not send me any mail in an ecru envelope. That crap's not funny. (Just a thought - wonder what the bank's response would be if I were to call and ask them to not send me anything in an ecru envelope...)

Confessions of a cranky mom

So the vast majorities of days I am thrilled to be a mom. I love my kid more than life itself, and find him absolutely hilarious. All I want to hear is his sweet voice, singing, or talking, or being funny. All I want to feel are his little arms around me, with his hot little breath against my cheek. I want to read to him, play Legos, or just listen to him while he does whatever it is he's doing. I enjoy putting way his small, good-smelling laundry. I love to cuddle with him while he's falling asleep at naptime. Most days, I am absorbed by his wonderfulness.

As you've probably guessed, today is not one of those days. Today, I just want him to be quiet, preferably somewhere else. Today, I don't want his sticky little fingers grabbing at me while he's screaming and clinging to my neck (while we're at church, I might add). Today, I want his stupid Legos to not be all over my freaking floor. Today I don't want to deal with his nasty underwear because he had "a little poop accident". Today I want hubby to put him down for his nap, and I want that nap to last about 3 hours. Today I want to still be his mom, but, for the moment, only in name. Today I am having a hard time remembering all the wonderfulness. Today I want someone else to deal with the (literal and figurative) mommy crap.

The legal part of the process

I hope you're all enjoying your weekends - we are. We're finally having a nice, quiet, low-key one at home. Seriously, just as I typed "quiet" I heard the kid start sobbing upstairs; I totally jinxed myself, didn't I? Okay, 30 minutes and the kid in bed later, let's try this again. Apparently, for those of you wondering, the sobbing was due to 2 things - him almost choking on a piece of Lego and his Poppa taking the Legos away for the night. See the lesson for more info about that...

Anyway, I thought tonight I could explain the "process" after we brought the kid home (tangent - that afternoon/evening was a chaotic mess. For future reference, before you just show up at new parents' homes, check with them to make sure they actually want you to come, espeically if it's the night they brought their kid home from the hospital. And, for God's sake, bring food and make sure the new parents actually get theirs before you decide to eat everything. Also, I don't think I ever really thanked you, Mom, for making sure I got a little to eat before the pot was empty! So, thanks!).

A couple of weeks after the kid was born, his birthparents, with the support of the agency, voluntarily terminated their parental rights. The day I knew this was to happen, I couldn't stop thinking about them. I have no idea what that day was like for them. We never talked about it; I kind of wish we had... it's probably too late now. We did visit with them at least once before they did this. It was a comfortable and wonderful visit, and the first time D., his birthfather, met him since he hadn't been able to be at the hospital when he was born. The visit, and all of our many visits save one, happened at their home at their request (it was easier for us to get out and to them, than for them to get out and to us).

Our social workers had explained that we were supposed to have a minimum of 3 home visits over a period of about 6 months after the kid was born. I think we maybe had 2? I know we didn't have all 3. Our social workers are overworked (like many social workers are) and we were all navigating the openness between our two families, so I think they felt like we were doing well.

As the end of our 6 months approached, we contacted an attorney I knew from my social services days. He filed the paperwork the day after the kid turned 6 months. We talked and had a home visit with the kid's court appointed attorney (so she could make sure it was in his best interest to be adopted by us). It took another 4 months for a court date to be set. I don't actually know why there was that lag in time. My understanding from talking with other families in similar situations is that they got court dates much quicker. It wasn't like it was a big stressor for us or anything - we knew he was part of our family and that there wasn't going to be anything that would disrupt the adoption so it was just a matter of time.

2 weeks before Christmas, we had our court date. We got there early, and then wandered around the courthouse waiting for a long time. (Another tangent - okay, can anybody else believe that smoking was allowed in the courthouse??!! I mean, seriously, in the building itself?! It's just crazy to me. It isn't allowed anymore, because that particular county has gone smoke-free, but still. It was not even 4 years ago!) Finally, we were called into the courtroom itself. My mom, BFF, and hubby's parents came and were there to witness the moment the kid became legally our son.

I really don't remember much of that moment, one, because it was so quick (we didn't even get a chance to take a pic with the judge - boo), but mostly, I think, because I just kept staring at the beautiful baby in my arms. I know we had to answer some questions (do you know this means he's your kid just like you'd given birth to him, with all the financial responsibilities, etc...) and the kid's atty gave her brief report that we were acceptable, but that's about all I remember. Isn't that funny that I would barely remember such a momentous occasion as that, though I vividly remember much of the time we spent waiting in the hallways (the smoke!, walking him up and down the floors, how calm and patient he was even though he was tired)? Idk...maybe it's because I never doubted, even for the tiniest of moments, that he was our son. I didn't need the "blessing" of some court, some random judge. We'd already been blessed by God, and that was all I really needed.

Today's lesson is that even if the box of a toy says that it's appropriate for a 4yo, that doesn't necessarily mean it is. For example, say your 4yo still puts everything in his mouth, you probably shouldn't give him Legos. Or at least, you probably shouldn't leave him unattended while he plays with them. Or, if you are in the room while he's playing with them, you should probably actually pay attention to him. Isn't that right, hubby dearest?

Postplacement Process

I just realized I haven't ever told you about what happened after the kid was born, our path to the kid legally being ours. It's kind of long (and I'm kind of long-winded) so I'll start today with just the in the hospital part.


The kid was born in the morning and we spent the whole day at the hospital with him. We also visited with his birth mom, or tried to - she was asleep much of the day. She was moved, unfortunately, to a non-maternity floor, and the kid wasn't allowed to go down there. How she was treated is a story for another day). We were not able to spend the night, though I know other parents have been allowed to do that; I guess it depends on the hospital.


We were back at the hospital bright and early the next morning. It took several minutes and explanations to be able to get back to him, as none of the nurses seemed to understand who we were or why we were there. They thought at first when we said we were there to see our baby that we meant he was in the NICU - it took a bit for us all to get on the same page. When the charge nurse's light bulb finally flipped on, she took us back to the nursery to see our baby boy.


Poor little guy had just been circumcised and a nurse's aide was holding him in a rocking chair. The charge nurse asked her to give him to us and she just sat there and stared, with this really skeptical look on her face. The charge nurse asked her again to give him to me and she shook her head "no", her eyes never leaving my face. Finally, after the charge nurse asked her for the third time, and I showed her our hospital bracelet that matched the kid's, she gave him to me. She wasn't happy about it. As I've thought about that interaction, I think I know what it was about. See, the kid was/is quite obviously black, and we were/are not. She was also black. I really think she just thought the charge nurse was confused and had the wrong baby-parent match. This wasn't the last time something like that happened, though.


Anyway, so we spent that day with him too, all day, just the 3 of us. My mom was able to come meet him (love at first site, of course) and some of our good friends also visited, but mostly it was just the 3 of us, in our own room. It was awesome. We were able to visit with L. (birthmom) a couple of times this day, and she was actually discharged. Our social worker took her home, but they came to say goodbye to the kid before leaving. It was the first time she'd seen him since right after he was born. She just held him and looked at him so tenderly. And, no. I wasn't afraid she was changing her mind. I was completely sure that they were sure about their decision. It was just so beautiful and painful at the same time. She didn't cry, or say much; she's a very private person. I don't know what was going through her, but I can only imagine how horrible it must have been. I know I had tears in my eyes as she was holding him, not for us, but for her. And, really, for the kid, too, because he was losing the only mother he'd known over the previous 9 months. I cried after they left for all of us - joy mixed with sadness and grief.


The next morning, we were back, bright and early. Our social worker had us sign a bunch of papers. No, I don't really remember what they were - I was much too excited to be FINALLY taking our baby home!!!!!!! It was huge. It was what we'd been waiting for, really, for years. It was everything. It had snowed a pretty substantial amount the night before, so we'd stayed the night at my mom's, because she lived in the town where the hospital was. We took the kid over to her house to pick up our dog. He just looked at the kid, repeatedly cocking his head back and forth. I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "uh, what the hell is this? And we are going to leave it at Gram's house, right?". Actually, I'm pretty sure he was thinking similar thoughts for the whole next year. Poor Jonah.

We took them both home. I sat in the backseat the whole way, staring at his beautiful little face, not believing that they'd actually let us leave with him, that we were now a family of 3 (well, 4 counting the newly depressed dog). Our son slept the whole way home. Hubby drove really slow. There wasn't much traffic, though the roads were pretty covered. I just stared in amazement. It had finally happened - we were parents.

Today's lesson is that you (okay, maybe I) should pay more attention when you walk into a public bathroom - to the floor specifically, you know, to make sure the toilet hasn't overflowed and someone's pee isn't all over the floor. You could fall, you know, into the pee. And that would be absolutely and completely disgusting. You might, at least, get to leave work early if that were to happen to you...

The voices in my head...

I realized 3 things last night as I was trying to fall asleep:
1. Yesterday's "dialogue" was actually a monologue (for those of you who get stuck on details, like maybe me) because it was more of a stream of babble, rather than a back and forth with myself. Yeah, I know. I spent too much time thinking about which it was last night when I should have been sleeping. And yeah, I'm tired this morning.
2. There's more pie at work. Yum. (Then I couldn't fall asleep because of all kinds of things, but mostly the thought of that yummy pie kept creeping in. What?!!? Don't judge. It was really good pie!!)
3. I realized that in all my babbling yesterday, I forgot the lesson! So, here's yesterday's lesson - When something keeps invading your thoughts, you should probably address it. But when you can't deal with the main thing (pregnancy and babies and all that crap) you should just eat the pie, so one of the insistent voices will shut up and you can at least get something done.

And then I realized 3 more things when I got into work this morning:
1. The pie is gone. No trace of it, like it never existed. This is sad.
2. I am grateful for whoever took the pie so it can't tempt and taunt me all day. Sure I am. That's what I'm going to tell myself all day at least...
3. My chair at work is trying to kill me. That's right, an inanimate object has it in for me. I think it's just pissed off that I ate the pie yesterday.

Today's lesson - yesterday's lesson may be wrong. Probably you should not just eat pie to shut up the voices in your head, if for no other reason that your chair might try to off you. Just eating the pie apparently, much to my surprise, doesn't work at clearing your mind. It may actually add in another (loud and insistent) voice that tells you you're going to get fat from eating the pie. Perhaps, you should just try to deal with whatever is the actual issue. That might shut up all the voices so you can get some freaking work done.

Dealing with it is also, probably, the best "professional" advice I can offer. However, we social workers tend to do better at dealing with other people's crap than our own. So, that said, I wish I had some pie...

Pie

Today's internal dialogue:

OMG, where did all these freaking pregnant people come from?! All of the sudden they're everywhere. I think I'm a pregnant magnet. Well, that's just funny, in a not really all that funny kind of way. Freaking irony. Hell, be honest with yourself - it just sucks. Yup it does. I wonder if there's any of that cherry pie left... Oh, that's great, I'll get fat and just look like I'm pregnant. Yeah, that would make me feel a lot better (dripping with sarcasm). Geez, the pregnant people are even on TV. Why was I even watching that show last night? Okay, next time the preggo ladies take over the show (or those women with their new babies - seriously I swear I see more new babies now than I did when I was working with them at my old job. What is up with that??!) anyway, I'll just turn it off. Or walk away. Yeah, I can do that. Pie, pie, pie, pie. I know there's still pie here. Damn the pie.

I should probably do some work since I haven't gotten anything I've planned done in the last few days. I mean I have been working, just not what I have planned. At least no pregnant people have come in. Well, except for the 2 who work here. Serously, the pregnant women are taking over my world. Work or pie, work or pie...work AND pie? No pie!! Just get some work done already.

I wonder what the kid's doing at school right now... I hope he's having a good day. Here comes K. (1 of the pregnant co-workers). I so like her and she's like the cutest pregnant girl ever. It kind of makes me sick she's so cute, especially since she doesn't even realize it! I know she's like completely over being pregnant. Really, who does want to be super pregnant in this horribly hot August. Oh, wait. That's right, I do. No, I don't. Not really, I just want my baby. Maybe I do though... Oh, crap. I don't know. (pie, pie, pie) I totally shouldn't have been facebooking our social worker today. That seems to have completely sidetracked my brain. FOCUS!!!!! GET SOME WORK DONE ALREADY!!!!!

Dear Lord, this is some really good pie...

"Momma, can I ask you a question?"

Here are some of the (thousands of) questions the kid asks me every day. It often starts with, "Momma, can I ask you a question?".

* "What does olfactory mean?" That's right, people, my 4yo actually said the word "olfactory" correctly. And after I told him what it means, he used it later that day appropriately in a sentence, twice.
* "Is that person a lady or a man?", which was asked right in front of the person in question. I quickly herded him away. And, no. I didn't know either the gender of the person. It was a valid, though obviously inappropriately timed, question.
* "Momma, where'd your penis go?". "Momma is a girl. Girls have a vagina, boys have a penis". "Awwww, that's so sad for you" (shakes head side to side with real sympathy).
* "Is Jonah (dog) gonna die when we go on vacation to the beach (in a couple of months)? You know, 'cause Georgie died while we were on vacation to Aunt Donna's house. So, should we take Jonah with us on vacation so he doesn't die?". Ummm, anybody got a good answer for this, other than "no, he won't die just because we go on vacation" 'cause that doesn't seem to be cutting it?
* "Why's our baby taking so long? It makes me really sad and I'm too impatient to wait much longer. Hasn't God figured out yet where our baby is?". I only wish I had an answer to that question.

Today's lesson is really just a reminder that our kids' minds are steel traps, I tell you. They remember everything so don't say anything you don't want them to 1. remember for ever, and 2. repeat in front of any and everyone.

Oh, Georgie...

We just returned from spending several days visiting with family. It was a wonderful visit and I so appreciated the time with people we love (and away from the craziness). When we came home, however, we sadly found that Georgie the Fish had passed away while we were gone. I first noticed the smell and quickly realized that Georgie was (quite literally) belly up in his bowl. I called the kid over to me and explained to him that Georgie had died. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Baby, Georgie has died. I'm so sorry.
Kid: Momma, what happened to him?
Me: I'm not sure.
Kid: Poppa, Georgie died.
Hubby: Okay. Uh, I'm sorry. (takes fish and starts to flush it down the toilet)
Me: Uh, wait a minute. Can we process this first, please.
Hubby: Uh...oh, okay.
Me: Baby, how are you feeling?
Kid: I'm sad that Georgie died. Momma, you know Georgie really liked it when it rained. He really liked to jump, especially when it rained. He was a good jumper. Momma, we shouldn't have left him to go on vacation. We shouldn't have left him alone 'cause that's when he died.
(Hubby flushes Georgie down toilet)
Kid: Momma, is Georgie going to heaven?
Me: I think so, but what do you think?
Kid:Yeah, I think so, too.
(later)
Kid: Momma, can I ask you something?
Me: Sure, baby. You can ask me anything. What is it?
Kid: Is Georgie in heaven now?
Me: I think so, what do you think.
Kid: Actually, I think he's still in the toilet.
Me: No, he's not there. Poppa flushed it. He's not in the toilet anymore.
Kid: Oh, good. 'Cause I have to pee and I don't want to pee on him. That would be rude. But, Momma, is he in ocean heaven now?
Me: Yeah, I think so. I think that's a good place for a fish.
Kid: Is he with his fish family? 'Cause we were his people family and we loved him. He was a good fish and we were his good family. But maybe now he's back with his fish family because they love him, too.
Me: (hugs the kid tight, without words for once in my life)

Today's lesson - kids understand a lot more than we give them credit for. They're also empathetic, both of which are attributes we really need to nurture. I think intuition and empathy are necessary for our kids to have in order for them to have a better world than the one we have now. Lets work on it together.

What not to say re: adoption Part 2

I thought of a couple more ridiculous things people have said to us...

1. "Oh, IS he adopted?". This has 2 parts... First, actually, he IS my son. He WAS adopted. Again, it's semantics and people don't mean to be insensitive, but being adopted was how he came into our family, like being born is how many other children come into their families. Being born, being adopted, they're events that happened; they're not a perpetual state of being. Second, why do you need/want to know? If it's because you're interested in adoption, then I am happy to have a bigger conversation with you about that topic. However, if you don't have a real reason, please see my rant about how somethings are actually not your business.

2. "Does he know he's not really yours?". I generally respond, "I don't know what you mean". They'll usually say something to the effect (and in a hushed tone), "you know because he's black". The best response I've used for this one is, "aren't we all?". They don't know what the heck I'm talking about and just sit there confused. I don't know what it really means either, but it sure is effective in getting them to change the topic. However, this still falls into the category of not your business. How would you feel if I walked up to you IN FRONT OF YOUR KID and said, "oh, does he know he isn't yours?". I'm sure you're thinking, "well, that's different". Actually, it's not. My kid is as much mine as yours are yours (though, seeing kids as "possessions" is a whole different conversation/rant for another day).

That's all I can think of for now, though I'm sure there have been many more. I do want to share something I read on another blog last night (wish I could remember which one...). It's also today's lesson. This blogger was talking about how difficult her wait for her child was. She said a friend had told her that there are many threads of our lives all around us. All we see of the tapestry, however, is the underside, where the cut threads and knots are, and it looks kind of like a mess. The hope is that one day we will be able to see the top side of it, and know just how perfectly our lives are woven. The crazy colors, the broken threads, the haphazard placement of threads, they are what makes the tapestry beautiful. It was a good reminder for me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Things not to ask re: adoption

So, I'm having a difficult-ish day. I'm already feeling kind if irritated so I thought I'd complain (and hopefully make myself laugh some) about some of the inconsiderate and just plain stupid things people have said to us about adoption. Okay, and to ward off anyone from saying it (and you know who you are), I KNOW that people don't usually say these stupid things meaning to be rude or inconsiderate. However, it would never be okay for me to walk up to someone and say, "wow, how'd you get so fat?" or "how much did that boob job cost ya?" or "how often do you and your partner have sex?". Those are socially unacceptable questions, so are the following...

1. "Where'd you get him?" or "Where did he come from?". First of all, you would never ask someone where their biological child came from, so why would anyone presume that this would be an okay question??! Sometimes I feign ignorance about what they mean, hoping to give them an opportunity to recognize their inappropriateness. Sometimes I ask them where their kids came from. Surprisingly, it rarely works. Actually, now that I think about it, it's never worked. It's a little bit funny to see the confused looks on their faces...

2. "How much did he cost?". Now, on occasion this one doesn't irritate me as much, because sometimes people are asking because they're interested in pursuing adoption themselves. If that's the case, I don't mind this one, if it's encased in a larger conversation. Otherwise, though, my kid is not like your neighbor's new car. If you're asking because you "just want to know", you're being nosey and should just stop.

3. "Is he really yours?". Um, yes. He is. I did get asked one time while I was nursing if he was hubby's. While this seems like a valid question (I get that really no one knows you can breastfeed a child to whom you didn't give birth), it still doesn't mean that it's an appropriate question. It goes back to that actually not being any of your business.

4. Last, but certainly not least, "where are his 'real' parents?". Hello? We're right here, you know the people to whom you just posed your question. Yeah, that's us. I realize that what people mean to ask is "where are his biological parents?". But, really, also none of your business. I would feel less irritated about that one if people would at least use the correct terminology.

Regardless, think how my child feels when someone asks him where his "real" parents are, (or any of these other questions, for that matter) how confusing and scary that could be. It's like insinuating that we're not his parents, and if we're not, and he's not really ours, then who is he and where does he belong? What's that like for a kid, for a 4yo who listens to everything and is really sensitive? He's standing right there most of the time when people say stupid things. So, yes, I will have a reaction and respond to people, sometimes in a snarky way (depending on my mood), but it's because it's my job to protect him.

So, the whole post was today's lesson! (And the while it took me to write this did help me feel less grouchy - a little - so that's good!)

Follow-Up

Several of you left me encouraging words of support on FB regarding the past post - thank you so much! I really appreciate that you take the time to read my ramblings, and give me thoughtful feedback.

I do have a funny follow-up, though. Hubby and I were out some some friends last night (Thanks J and JE for a great time!) and I was telling them about this incident. As we were discussing it, I remembered a detail I'd left out - that the creepy man had had his arm ALL THE WAY down his swim shorts, looking like he was holding his "junk-n-stuff, as the kid calls it, when he was walking back from the diving well. After I mentioned that, hubby said, "well, it might have looked like that, and his arm was down there really far, but he didn't have a hand so he wasn't holding anything". I burst out laughing, like tears in my eyes kind of laughing. Not that he was missing a hand (even though I think he's a jerk, I would never laugh at that), but that I somehow didn't notice it. I mean, really, how could I have totally not noticed something like that??! I'm pretty sure not noticing that is an epic fail of some kind on my part. Sometimes I am completely the antithesis of "the master of the obvious".

Today's lesson - let us all remember that we hold only one part of a story or experience. Others around us notice and experience different parts of it. And, sometimes, the parts they notice are fairly significant. Just because there are parts we didn't witness in the midst of the experience, doesn't mean they aren't important. (Seriously, how did I NOT notice that the guy had no hand??!)

Our First Closeup with Racism

I'm a social worker, right? So, I know racism exists. I guess I've just never been so personally affected as I was yesterday. Sexism? Sure...all the time. But racism, never. Not until yesterday at least. And now I'm just pissed.

Yesterday afternoon I left work a little early to meet hubby and the kid at the neighborhood pool to watch the kid at his swim lesson. I watched him play for a few minutes, then we went to have a little rest and snack before his lesson started. We were seated under an awning and a man came over and asked if he could sit down next to us. We were friendly and told him no one was there and the space was his. The kid, being the kid, went over and immediately started talking to him. This always makes me nervous because it hurts my heart when people don't respond to his efforts to be friendly. The man, I could tell, was a little...uh "off", for lack of a better term. He spoke briefly to the kid and I quickly asked the kid to sit back down and finish his snack. The man went over to swim and I thought the awkward encounter was over.

The man jumped off the diving board a few times then came back over. He walked right up to us and said, "What is it today, Nigerian day at the pool?". The kid started to say something friendly to the man again and I quickly told him to sit down and eat his snack. Hubby and I looked at each other and didn't respond to the man. You'd think that would have told him to shut up, but no. He then said, "what nobody has an answer for me about if today's Nigerian day?". Either hubby or I said, "uh, no" and left it at that. I then got the kid up and went over to wait near the pool for his lesson, mostly to get him away from the jack@ss. By the time the lesson was over, the man had thankfully left.

And the more I've thought about the incident, the angrier I've become. I'm not just angry with the ignorant, rude, racist man. I'm mostly angry with myself. I can't believe I just sat there and said nothing. I feel like I failed as a person, as a social worker, but most importantly, I failed as a mother. Not that I've come up with a better way to have handled it, but I certainly wish I'd done something.

My son knows that he's a different color than we are, but, at 4, he hasn't attached anything to that, other than color (like "Momma's dress is black, tomatoes are red, Poppa's shirt is blue, my skin is brown"). I know something like this is going to happen again, as much as we try to shelter and protect him. He will eventually know what these kinds of comments mean and it will hurt him. That about breaks my heart because I don't know how to prepare him, much less how to protect him. How do we insulate him and prepare him and love him enough that he can handle the racism that is bound to attack him??? I really don't know...

Today's lesson is something I learned about myself yesterday evening, though it's maybe more of a re-learning of a lesson. Here it is: never assume you know how you'll react in a particular situation. I've always assumed I would respond directly and immediately in situations such as what happened to us, but I didn't. I think we need to be gentle with ourselves (heck, it's not like this is the first of my parenting failings, and I'm sure it sadly won't be the last) and then figure out how to do better next time.