Just when you think you've heard it all, people never cease to amaze you!
Mom #3 and I were working in the nursery together again this weekend. Another mom is apparently expecting her fourth, and at twenty weeks has less of a tummy than I do with only the previous night's supper in me. That's always nice to see.
So, as we know, no topic is off limits among nursery workers. Oh, nursery duty days... I just love how I never know what to expect from you!
So as the other two moms in the room were talking about their various delivery experiences (seven, between them) at different area hospitals, which had a good nursing staff, which did not, which nurseries were the nicest, which doctors they preferred, etc. I know this topic tends to come up among younger moms, and I do know that it's just one of those things I can't control, but also that I don't really have much to add to the conversation... obviously. :)
Finally, Mom #3 (see the linked post) asks me, "Where did you have Sassy?"
Um? Wasn't the whole "adoption" thing clear from previous conversations we've had?
Thinking she must have just forgotten, I smiled and said, "I didn't have Sassy." It was at this point that she looked at me like I had grown a third eye.
I filled her in on the fact that we had adopted Sassy, so I didn't actually birth her. :) The response was one that I can honestly say I had never gotten before. She told me I was wrong. I actually had someone tell me I was lying about Sassy being adopted. HUH??
Of course, she wasn't being mean... but apparently the adoption was just so incredulous to her that she sincerely thought I was telling her a story. I don't for the life of me know WHY I would lie about that, but okay then.
"No, you didn't! You HAD her! I know you did!" Exact. words. And repeated over and over... and over... and over...
I finally had to say, look, I was there, and it wasn't me she was coming out of. :) (Although I wasn't actually in the delivery room for a number of reasons, it was the only thing I could think of that seemed to get her to acknowledge that, yes, in fact, I was being completely honest!)
She never really indicated why she so strongly thought that Sassy was my biological child. I didn't ask... didn't seem productive.
Oh, it gets better though!
"So, whose is she then?" YES, REALLY!
"Mine!" was my reply, because that's the honest answer!
"No, I mean, who had her? Did you know her?"
"Well, we do now!" I said. I was into literal answers on this occasion, I guess!
I explained that we went through an agency, that we had a home study, that it was (ironically) about nine months from being approved to Sassy's birth, that Sassy's mom chose us from the profiles she had to view, that we have an open relationship with her, and that we do still visit when we have the opportunity.
I think she was still pretty shocked, though. I just didn't realize we were so... abnormal! Are we really that weird?!
Showing posts with label sassy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sassy. Show all posts
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
She's ASLEEP!
After a week-long nap strike, Sassy is NAPPING!!!!! I put her down earlier than usual today (easier said than done), and it worked like a charm.
I feel like singing! But I won't because I don't want to wake her up. :)
Could I possibly be so lucky as to have naptime back in our normal routine?!
I feel like singing! But I won't because I don't want to wake her up. :)
Could I possibly be so lucky as to have naptime back in our normal routine?!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Learning names
Before Sassy was born, someone gave us a little baby-proof picture book. The cover says something about "people who love me," and there's pockets for your own pictures of family members and friends to be inserted. I thought this was such a great idea, and I even remember noting while I was opening the gift that one of the slots could be used for FirstMom's picture.
Even though Sassy's baby days are quickly slipping away (some would argue that, at age two, there's very little "baby" left in her), we'll still pull out that little baby picture book from time to time. We go through it and discuss who is in each picture. It's also interesting to let her figure out who that baby (at varying stages) is with all of these people she calls her family.
There's a picture framed in her bedroom of FirstMom holding Sassy the day after she was born. Occasionally, I'll point it out and ask her who that is. She knows now and can tell me FirstMom's name. She doesn't yet understand that she is the baby, all swaddled in nursery blankets.
We talk about "who" FirstMom is to her, as much as is possible at a young toddler's level. We practice various "terms," trying to try them on for size, if you will. I don't yet know which one will fit. As an adult who is fully secure in who I am to my child and that no one can ever take her from me, I'm personally a fan of "first mom," just because it's true. It makes sense. It's honest. But, from the position of my young child, who isn't yet old enough or mature enough to comprehend (even in part) what it means to be adopted (thereby having a complete "other" family before the family she knows now), I don't know that I'm ready to commit to one particular term above another for her sake.
I've noticed lately that as I ask Sassy who someone in a particular picture is, she'll almost certainly reply with FirstMom's name. Even if it's someone who looks NOTHING like her. Even if it's a picture of Sassy herself as a baby. She says her name with a questioning tone, but looks at me with a proud grin.
Why is this? Why has FirstMom become her default guess? I'm not bothered that she knows her name; after all, this is what we've been practicing, right? I don't think it's appropriate to bring her up daily at this point, but I also don't want my daughter to feel blindsided by new information someday. But why does she make this same guess each time?
Maybe it's time to back off from learning names for a while.
Even though Sassy's baby days are quickly slipping away (some would argue that, at age two, there's very little "baby" left in her), we'll still pull out that little baby picture book from time to time. We go through it and discuss who is in each picture. It's also interesting to let her figure out who that baby (at varying stages) is with all of these people she calls her family.
There's a picture framed in her bedroom of FirstMom holding Sassy the day after she was born. Occasionally, I'll point it out and ask her who that is. She knows now and can tell me FirstMom's name. She doesn't yet understand that she is the baby, all swaddled in nursery blankets.
We talk about "who" FirstMom is to her, as much as is possible at a young toddler's level. We practice various "terms," trying to try them on for size, if you will. I don't yet know which one will fit. As an adult who is fully secure in who I am to my child and that no one can ever take her from me, I'm personally a fan of "first mom," just because it's true. It makes sense. It's honest. But, from the position of my young child, who isn't yet old enough or mature enough to comprehend (even in part) what it means to be adopted (thereby having a complete "other" family before the family she knows now), I don't know that I'm ready to commit to one particular term above another for her sake.
I've noticed lately that as I ask Sassy who someone in a particular picture is, she'll almost certainly reply with FirstMom's name. Even if it's someone who looks NOTHING like her. Even if it's a picture of Sassy herself as a baby. She says her name with a questioning tone, but looks at me with a proud grin.
Why is this? Why has FirstMom become her default guess? I'm not bothered that she knows her name; after all, this is what we've been practicing, right? I don't think it's appropriate to bring her up daily at this point, but I also don't want my daughter to feel blindsided by new information someday. But why does she make this same guess each time?
Maybe it's time to back off from learning names for a while.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Raisins: a warning
When serving lunch to your two-year-old, please take caution when adding raisins to their plate. Even if she has NEVER given you an ounce of indication that she just may do something besides eat the raisin, your toddler very well may be calling you when you step out of the room by yelling "Stuck! Stuck in nose!"
You may discover that simply asking your child to blow her nose does nothing to dislodge the stuck raisin. And you may find yourself sitting in front of the largest window to get the best possible light, pinning your small child down in your lap, and using your good tweezers (as its the only pair you have, and the only thing potentially smaller than the nostrils in her cute button nose) to attempt to un-stick a dark dried fruit from a dark, snotty space.
You may further realize that your good tweezers are only pushing the raisin up further into her small nostril. But be persistent! You'll eventually get it out, even if your child is crying and apologizing FOR you since you are apparently not focused on saying you're sorry for the inconvenience.
Anyone else had the pleasure of dislodging pieces of your child's lunch from places they were never intended to be?
No? Just us?
You may discover that simply asking your child to blow her nose does nothing to dislodge the stuck raisin. And you may find yourself sitting in front of the largest window to get the best possible light, pinning your small child down in your lap, and using your good tweezers (as its the only pair you have, and the only thing potentially smaller than the nostrils in her cute button nose) to attempt to un-stick a dark dried fruit from a dark, snotty space.
You may further realize that your good tweezers are only pushing the raisin up further into her small nostril. But be persistent! You'll eventually get it out, even if your child is crying and apologizing FOR you since you are apparently not focused on saying you're sorry for the inconvenience.
Anyone else had the pleasure of dislodging pieces of your child's lunch from places they were never intended to be?
No? Just us?
Saturday, January 30, 2010
$3.00
...is what I spent on all of these. Our local library has a "library shop" in which they sell books that have either been donated and cannot be used, or library books that have been phased out of the system. I've come home with some amazing finds from this shop, and always make sure to check it out each time we are there, since they restock it frequently. Sassy and I went to the library on this cold Saturday morning, and we found some treasures in the library shop today! We chose twelve books. All children's books are a quarter a piece... you can't beat that! Yes, some are a little old, and some are a little worn... but there are so many books that have tons of life left in them!
We found some cute Little Golden books.
And we found some childhood favorites of mine.
We found a book by one of our favorite funny authors.
I always thought The Magic School Bus books were so neat.
And we came home with this, since it will be in three days.
$3.00 for twelve books. The library shop is a great place!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Never would have thought
Since Sassy was born, I have enjoyed being a stay-at-home mom. That was always the plan. It was something my husband and I discussed even before we were married -- that we both wanted me to stay home with our children someday, and that we'd be willing to make the sacrifices necessary in order to make that possible. We both had moms who stayed at home (mostly) while growing up, and felt that was important to both of us when looking ahead to the future of our own family. I know some are not as fortunate, and some choose other paths, but it works for us. :)
I taught elementary school before becoming a mom, and did really enjoy it. I was most certainly ready to get out by the end, and pretty fed up with the endless meetings, paperwork, and documentation that come with the job. I'd dealt with my share of irate, unreasonable, or absentee parents, and I'd gotten my fill of administrative "politics."
But, I do still miss the actual teaching part of teaching. I've even had a small seed in my thoughts of homeschooling Sassy when the time comes, but I'm not sure yet if that will come to fruition or not. I don't want to make that important choice based on my desires rather than her best interest.
For now, I'm just 100% enjoying where we are in life right now, and that includes me being at home.
And then the phone rang this week. The principal from the school where I used to teach said, "I have a favor to ask you, and don't say 'no' right away." Ugh... what was coming?
The short story is that, after a few hours of debating and thinking outside my comfort zone, I agreed to fill a long-term substitute position for a kindergarten teacher who is out on an unexpected medical leave. I've committed to one month, at the most. If her recovery goes well and she's able to return sooner, I let the principal know I wouldn't be offended. :) We also discussed that I cannot work past our agreed-upon deadline. I don't want to get into a situation of, "Oh, do you mind coming in just a couple more days? Just another week? Just one more?"
I only cover the morning class, which is wonderful. I don't think I could have done it full-day. We've pieced together family members who are willing to watch Sassy at our house every morning. This is fantastic, since she's not even awake when I leave for work in the mornings. I'm relieved that we've had to make very minimal changes to her normal routine. The only REAL difference is that I'm not the one here with her, but instead it's grandmas or aunts that she is completely familiar with.
I can't lie; it was flattering to be their first choice fill-in. It feels nice to be appreciated, and all of the other teachers (many of whom are former co-workers) have made me feel right at home again. I've gotten lots of hugs and words of encouragement. Everyone smiles warmly and says, "It's great to have you back!" I think what is most hysterical to me is watching former students pass me in the halls and whisper, "Hey, Mrs. _____ is here... is she back?" In a way, it feels like no time has passed.
The kids are delightful and precious. I've gotten a few hugs from them, too, and one little girl wanted to sit next to me one day. They do stretch my patience quite a bit in a couple of areas, but we'll get there. :)
The most difficult part so far has been putting everything back into order. Since the teacher was out so suddenly, and hasn't been in the classroom since before the holidays, things are fairly chaotic. I'm missing curriculum, portions of lesson plans, worksheets that were to be done, and other materials. Given my "type A" personality, organization was always a strong point of mine while teaching, and I had plans and materials laid out for at least a week in advance, always. Again, this is a unique situation, so it's not really anyone's "fault"... but it does make for some added challenges.
I think things will be much more smooth when the clutter gets under control a bit. I also think it will help the flow of our day significantly when I gain some familiarity with the new reading and phonics curriculum they've implemented this year, which is quite extensive. (Side note: I would love to know why curriculum writers seem to think half-day kindergarten has upwards of seventy minutes to spend alone on phonics. Perhaps it's been a bit too long since they've had to escort a classroom of five-year-olds to the restroom eight times in a morning, tie forty-seven shoelaces in an hour, and compassionately listen to a ten-minute story of how little Johnny's dog has a cold today.)
The mommy guilt isn't as bad as I'd expected during the day, simply because there is no time to think about it. Three days out of five, I have literally NO breaks, from the time they walk in the door to the time I drop them off for dismissal. But, it does hit a bit more when I get home. I eat lunch with my precious girl, and then it's time for her nap. She's been a little crabbier since this all happened, and I've noticed a few more meltdowns than usual. I wonder if this big change (in our world) is affecting her more than I realized. :(
It's only a month. We can do anything for a month! And, I do honestly enjoy it... but I won't be turning in my application for next year. :) I'll have fun with it while it lasts, be able to count the days, and will probably heave a huge sigh of relief when I scoot out of that building on my last day. I'll definitely be ready to go back to "just" a stay-at-home mom. That's my favorite job. :)
I taught elementary school before becoming a mom, and did really enjoy it. I was most certainly ready to get out by the end, and pretty fed up with the endless meetings, paperwork, and documentation that come with the job. I'd dealt with my share of irate, unreasonable, or absentee parents, and I'd gotten my fill of administrative "politics."
But, I do still miss the actual teaching part of teaching. I've even had a small seed in my thoughts of homeschooling Sassy when the time comes, but I'm not sure yet if that will come to fruition or not. I don't want to make that important choice based on my desires rather than her best interest.
For now, I'm just 100% enjoying where we are in life right now, and that includes me being at home.
And then the phone rang this week. The principal from the school where I used to teach said, "I have a favor to ask you, and don't say 'no' right away." Ugh... what was coming?
The short story is that, after a few hours of debating and thinking outside my comfort zone, I agreed to fill a long-term substitute position for a kindergarten teacher who is out on an unexpected medical leave. I've committed to one month, at the most. If her recovery goes well and she's able to return sooner, I let the principal know I wouldn't be offended. :) We also discussed that I cannot work past our agreed-upon deadline. I don't want to get into a situation of, "Oh, do you mind coming in just a couple more days? Just another week? Just one more?"
I only cover the morning class, which is wonderful. I don't think I could have done it full-day. We've pieced together family members who are willing to watch Sassy at our house every morning. This is fantastic, since she's not even awake when I leave for work in the mornings. I'm relieved that we've had to make very minimal changes to her normal routine. The only REAL difference is that I'm not the one here with her, but instead it's grandmas or aunts that she is completely familiar with.
I can't lie; it was flattering to be their first choice fill-in. It feels nice to be appreciated, and all of the other teachers (many of whom are former co-workers) have made me feel right at home again. I've gotten lots of hugs and words of encouragement. Everyone smiles warmly and says, "It's great to have you back!" I think what is most hysterical to me is watching former students pass me in the halls and whisper, "Hey, Mrs. _____ is here... is she back?" In a way, it feels like no time has passed.
The kids are delightful and precious. I've gotten a few hugs from them, too, and one little girl wanted to sit next to me one day. They do stretch my patience quite a bit in a couple of areas, but we'll get there. :)
The most difficult part so far has been putting everything back into order. Since the teacher was out so suddenly, and hasn't been in the classroom since before the holidays, things are fairly chaotic. I'm missing curriculum, portions of lesson plans, worksheets that were to be done, and other materials. Given my "type A" personality, organization was always a strong point of mine while teaching, and I had plans and materials laid out for at least a week in advance, always. Again, this is a unique situation, so it's not really anyone's "fault"... but it does make for some added challenges.
I think things will be much more smooth when the clutter gets under control a bit. I also think it will help the flow of our day significantly when I gain some familiarity with the new reading and phonics curriculum they've implemented this year, which is quite extensive. (Side note: I would love to know why curriculum writers seem to think half-day kindergarten has upwards of seventy minutes to spend alone on phonics. Perhaps it's been a bit too long since they've had to escort a classroom of five-year-olds to the restroom eight times in a morning, tie forty-seven shoelaces in an hour, and compassionately listen to a ten-minute story of how little Johnny's dog has a cold today.)
The mommy guilt isn't as bad as I'd expected during the day, simply because there is no time to think about it. Three days out of five, I have literally NO breaks, from the time they walk in the door to the time I drop them off for dismissal. But, it does hit a bit more when I get home. I eat lunch with my precious girl, and then it's time for her nap. She's been a little crabbier since this all happened, and I've noticed a few more meltdowns than usual. I wonder if this big change (in our world) is affecting her more than I realized. :(
It's only a month. We can do anything for a month! And, I do honestly enjoy it... but I won't be turning in my application for next year. :) I'll have fun with it while it lasts, be able to count the days, and will probably heave a huge sigh of relief when I scoot out of that building on my last day. I'll definitely be ready to go back to "just" a stay-at-home mom. That's my favorite job. :)
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Stockings
This week, I ordered this stocking for Sassy. I love it! I've looked at it in years past and always figured I'd order after the season when it was being clearanced out, but always seemed to miss it. I was so excited to see that it's already on sale, so I ordered it. I decided to have it personalized as well, knowing it would not be here in time for Friday morning, but at least I will have it ready to go for Christmas 2010.
In Sassy's stocking (a cheap one we've had since the hospital nurses sent her home in it when she was born... it really was rather cute) this year will be:
Other ideas I have already for next year include:
In Sassy's stocking (a cheap one we've had since the hospital nurses sent her home in it when she was born... it really was rather cute) this year will be:
- a straw cup with, I think, Elmo on it (can't remember for sure, but thinking it's one of those Sesame Street characters)
- a mini Little People set (a fairy looking one with a pet snail... ha!)
- a board book I picked up at the Scholastic sale this summer... because I haven't gotten around to wrapping it as I'd intended
- a baby bottle for her dollies
- raisins (a FAVORITE snack lately)
- dried fruit (same deal)
- graham cracker bunnies... how cute is that?
- an eating utensil set, because we can always use more of those, and.....
- TRAINING PANTS!!! Woohoo! I'm so interested to see how she reacts to her "big girl panties"... and if we'll continue on this train of really enjoying using the "big potty." Hee hee!
Other ideas I have already for next year include:
- bubble bath (why didn't I remember this when I was at Walmart for the second time in one day last night?)
- hair bows and clippies
- nail polish (I painted my toes red this morning, and she wanted hers done just the same way)
- play jewelry
Monday, December 21, 2009
Christmas gifts
A 10"x10"x15" box just arrived on our doorstep. Inside are six Christmas gifts from Sassy's first mom and grandma.
At this point in our relationship, I'm never surprised that she receives packages from them at birthday and Christmastime (which happen to be in the same month). Even with a very busy few weeks for FirstMom, I knew she'd remember.
But, my heart is always so full when things like this arrive for my girl from her first family. I have a huge grin, and I just feel warm all over.
It's SO not about the actual gifts. It's about the time, the thought, the energy that went into getting them here, and in plenty of time for Christmas Day. She's remembered and loved always, and she will have these tangible little things throughout the years as a reminder. She's one of them, and she's one of us, too.
At this point in our relationship, I'm never surprised that she receives packages from them at birthday and Christmastime (which happen to be in the same month). Even with a very busy few weeks for FirstMom, I knew she'd remember.
But, my heart is always so full when things like this arrive for my girl from her first family. I have a huge grin, and I just feel warm all over.
It's SO not about the actual gifts. It's about the time, the thought, the energy that went into getting them here, and in plenty of time for Christmas Day. She's remembered and loved always, and she will have these tangible little things throughout the years as a reminder. She's one of them, and she's one of us, too.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Direct TV
We had it installed last night. I'd planned to DVR Sesame Street, Curious George, and some of Sassy's other favorite kids' shows. I probably still will, but the tech introduced us to kids' programming OnDemand.
I am in LOVE with Sprout OnDemand. So many of her favorites, and some neither of us have ever seen (or heard of) before! And they're FREE! I had no idea. I thought "OnDemand" automatically meant paying the premium for the luxury of convenience, but there are so many free programs that are kid-friendly, educational, and fun for Sassy!
I'm seeing more TV in my kid's future... *oops* But hey, it's the holiday season AND it's too cold to go outside... I've got to have a break somewhere!
I am in LOVE with Sprout OnDemand. So many of her favorites, and some neither of us have ever seen (or heard of) before! And they're FREE! I had no idea. I thought "OnDemand" automatically meant paying the premium for the luxury of convenience, but there are so many free programs that are kid-friendly, educational, and fun for Sassy!
I'm seeing more TV in my kid's future... *oops* But hey, it's the holiday season AND it's too cold to go outside... I've got to have a break somewhere!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Two years ago today
Two years ago today, my daughter was three days old. She lay in a hospital nursery, swaddled in pink and blue blankets, completely oblivious as to how her life was changing so drastically on that day.
Her mom, just a few doors down the hallway, signed to terminate her parental rights, allowing her second-born child to go home with a couple she'd only met a handful of times prior. To be loved and snuggled and cared for and protected by them. To be raised in a different home, a different town, and with a different last name.
A few floors below, we sat in the lobby, waiting, torn between the deep desire to be parents to this precious little girl we'd met and the horrific dread of watching a mother and child be separated permanently.
The social worker came downstairs, giving us a thumbs-up sign, which is another post for another day. It was well-intentioned, but felt so very inappropriate in that moment, and I still believe it was, although I do know she didn't mean it the way it came across. I crumpled into my husband and sobbed. They were not tears of joy, and would not be for weeks, or even months maybe.
We listened to all the legal jargon, so void of emotion, but still understandably necessary. We signed where we were told, on papers that said we were now parents. Just like that. Like someone flipped a switch from "off" to "on."
Up an elevator, through locked doors, down a hallway, around a corner, inside a hospital room sat FirstMom. I will never forget the moments that followed. As we walked into her room, she was putting the last of her belongings in her bag. Three family members assisted her. She wore a baggy brown sweater and gray sweatpants over her postpartum stomach. Her hair was pulled up out of her face, and she wore no make-up. We sat together on a little couch in her room and cried together. We hugged, we talked, we tried to laugh, and we prayed. We took a picture together. I said I couldn't leave that day feeling like we might never see her again, and she assured me we would see each other again because we were now family.
A nurse came with a wheelchair, and FirstMom left. I'll never forget watching her leave the room and out of my sight. I sobbed even harder. She was gone, and her baby, who was now my baby, still lay in the nursery, unaware.
We left the hospital that day as a family of three. It took a long time for me to feel that it was okay to be joyful about Sassy being with us. Attachment was not immediate for me, but it did come as the days went on. Sassy, on the other hand, transitioned beautifully. There were only a few occasions that I felt strongly that she might have been confused or upset, and I did everything in my power to comfort her. Even though it took me a while to feel confident in my role as her mom, I always had the instinct to protect and nurture her.
Life went on, as it always does. We've grown and changed. FirstMom has grown and changed. Choices are made. Circumstances follow. Though the loss will always be there, life does become normal again, even if it's a new normal.
On that day, we were placed with our daughter, and FirstMom went home empty-handed. Today, exactly two years later to the day, FirstMom has delivered her third child, her second daughter. Baby Sister was born this morning, and everyone is healthy. She is likely lying in a hospital nursery, swaddled in pink and blue blankets, and awaiting her discharge in a few days to go home with her mommy, the only one she's ever known.
On the exact day of the year that FirstMom lost a daughter, another daughter has been born to her whom she will not lose. Baby Sister is in no way a "replacement" for Sassy. But, I can't help but think how very ironic it is that her birthday would be today.
Her mom, just a few doors down the hallway, signed to terminate her parental rights, allowing her second-born child to go home with a couple she'd only met a handful of times prior. To be loved and snuggled and cared for and protected by them. To be raised in a different home, a different town, and with a different last name.
A few floors below, we sat in the lobby, waiting, torn between the deep desire to be parents to this precious little girl we'd met and the horrific dread of watching a mother and child be separated permanently.
The social worker came downstairs, giving us a thumbs-up sign, which is another post for another day. It was well-intentioned, but felt so very inappropriate in that moment, and I still believe it was, although I do know she didn't mean it the way it came across. I crumpled into my husband and sobbed. They were not tears of joy, and would not be for weeks, or even months maybe.
We listened to all the legal jargon, so void of emotion, but still understandably necessary. We signed where we were told, on papers that said we were now parents. Just like that. Like someone flipped a switch from "off" to "on."
Up an elevator, through locked doors, down a hallway, around a corner, inside a hospital room sat FirstMom. I will never forget the moments that followed. As we walked into her room, she was putting the last of her belongings in her bag. Three family members assisted her. She wore a baggy brown sweater and gray sweatpants over her postpartum stomach. Her hair was pulled up out of her face, and she wore no make-up. We sat together on a little couch in her room and cried together. We hugged, we talked, we tried to laugh, and we prayed. We took a picture together. I said I couldn't leave that day feeling like we might never see her again, and she assured me we would see each other again because we were now family.
A nurse came with a wheelchair, and FirstMom left. I'll never forget watching her leave the room and out of my sight. I sobbed even harder. She was gone, and her baby, who was now my baby, still lay in the nursery, unaware.
We left the hospital that day as a family of three. It took a long time for me to feel that it was okay to be joyful about Sassy being with us. Attachment was not immediate for me, but it did come as the days went on. Sassy, on the other hand, transitioned beautifully. There were only a few occasions that I felt strongly that she might have been confused or upset, and I did everything in my power to comfort her. Even though it took me a while to feel confident in my role as her mom, I always had the instinct to protect and nurture her.
Life went on, as it always does. We've grown and changed. FirstMom has grown and changed. Choices are made. Circumstances follow. Though the loss will always be there, life does become normal again, even if it's a new normal.
On that day, we were placed with our daughter, and FirstMom went home empty-handed. Today, exactly two years later to the day, FirstMom has delivered her third child, her second daughter. Baby Sister was born this morning, and everyone is healthy. She is likely lying in a hospital nursery, swaddled in pink and blue blankets, and awaiting her discharge in a few days to go home with her mommy, the only one she's ever known.
On the exact day of the year that FirstMom lost a daughter, another daughter has been born to her whom she will not lose. Baby Sister is in no way a "replacement" for Sassy. But, I can't help but think how very ironic it is that her birthday would be today.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Open Adoption Roundtable: Birthdays
I've been absent from the "roundtable" discussions as of late, not because of being uninterested in discussing important issues in open adoption, and not because of being unwilling to think through the complexities of such an intricate and unique relationship. It's simply been because of time restraints, and other things being a higher priority than blogging. :)
However, this topic is especially timely for me, as Sassy's second birthday is less than a week away. I really wanted to participate this time, and as life would have it, have been given much more "fuel for the fire" in terms of topics and events to discuss.
In response to two of Thanksgivingmom's questions, most applicable to us:
What do you/your family do to integrate open adoption and birthday celebrations?
We've only been at this thing for two years now, so we really only have one birthday (other than, of course, the day of her birth) under our belt, in the most technical sense. Of course, that will change within the week. Prior to Sassy's first birthday, I emailed FirstMom and asked her if she'd be open to receiving a birthday party invitation (which happened to fall on Sassy's actual birthday that year). She did not respond, and we understood that to mean she just wasn't ready yet. I was disappointed, but accepted that. She sent some very thoughtful gifts in the mail ahead of time so that Sassy could open her presents on her birthday. (She did the same for Christmas a couple weeks later, as a matter of fact.) We also received the most amazing card and handwritten letter in the mail on that exact day. She wrote to Sassy and told her how much she loved and had missed her, but that she was so excited she was turning one. Like any mother, she wrote about all the wonderful things she knew God had in store for her precious girl, and how she is uniquely loved, for always. I cried tears of joy upon reading that letter. It was like finding a brick of gold in my mailbox, and I promptly put it away in Sassy's "special box," where I keep all the little scraps of this or that from her biological family for her to have one day.
What do you wish you would see in future birthday celebrations re: involvement with your child’s adoptive parents/birth parents?
I have always wished for some acknowledgment from FirstMom on Sassy's birthday each and every year. I can't imagine going through that day without any sense of remembrance or recognition. I hope (and at this point, feel relatively secure in that hope) that Sassy will always be remembered by her first family on her birthday each year, whether that comes in the form of a phone call, a birthday card, or a gift sent. It has nothing to do with the amount that is spent on such items, but EVERYTHING to do with the fact that she is loved, and therefore time was invested to shop for, pick out, purchase, wrap, and send something to let her know they are thinking of her and loving her and that they remember it's her special day.
Additionally, if I were to hope for more than what I'd consider the "bare minimum," I would like to be able to celebrate Sassy's birthday with FirstMom, at least one year. I wish that someday she will be able to join us for her party, to sit amongst our closest family and friends as one of us, and to revel in the sheer joy of watching our daughter experiencing the thrill of her big day -- the cake, the presents, all of it. I can't say I've had the same level of confidence in this hopeful participation, but I've dreamt of it since the day she was born.
As I sat addressing FirstMom's invitation to Sassy's birthday party a few weeks ago, I noted to my husband that I was fully prepared to not hear a response again this year, but that at least she would know we remembered her and wanted her to feel included and welcome. Additionally, being aware of some very specific happenings in FirstMom's life right now, we could not have been more surprised to receive an email, just days after mailing the invitation, telling us that FirstMom was planning to make the drive that day and join us for the party! I cried again those same tears of joy, in awe of all that she will be able to experience by being here that day. Not just reading it in an update, or flipping through pictures, or watching a video, but to actually BE here and participate... it's amazing to me, and I feel so grateful for that opportunity! Sure, there are worries about her meeting our family for the first time, visiting our house for the first time, and just the inevitable emotions the day will bring... but I feel confident that it will ALL be worth it in the end, if for no other reason than I will have that one more memory for my daughter. Actions speak louder than words, and the fact that FirstMom is setting aside her current challenges to make the effort to be here for Sassy will ring much more clearly than my reminders someday to Sassy that FirstMom does love and care about her.
It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?
So. That was last week. And now it is this week. And as it turns out, we've gone from preparing our family members for our unexpected visitor, to hanging in the balance to see how the remainder of this week unfolds, and if FirstMom will be able to join us after all. This new branch of our adoption story has been an interesting one, and I've been contemplating when, or even if, I would feel "ready" to discuss it publicly. To be honest, I still don't feel ready. I still feel concerned, nervous, and anxious, but I know that life is about to change in a way I was not prepared for, and there's really nothing we can do about it but hang on for the ride.
Sassy is going to be a big sister. We've known this was coming for several months, but in some ways, it still feels as much of a shock as it did the day we heard the news. FirstMom will be delivering another baby girl as early as this week, though her due date is not until after Christmas. She will be parenting this precious little one, and for that, we are grateful. I cannot fathom FirstMom going through a second relinquishment. However, I would be lying if I said I was not nervous. Not about her mothering -- not in the least. FirstMom does parent in some different ways than we do, but I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that she loves her children and cares for them in the best ways possible. But, I am worried about the logistics of many things, and the day-to-day changes it will bring for them. While some aspects of this pregnancy are different than her last, we see many similarities. It breaks our hearts. It's not how it's "supposed" to be. Some of it is circumstantial; much of it is choice. It's a rough cycle to try and break when it's just too "easy" to remain at status quo.
We love FirstMom dearly. We want the absolute best for her and her family. She's in a totally different mindset this time around. It's very clear that she IS happy, and we thank God that this family is being spared from the loss of a child a second time in two years.
But... it's still hard. It's still unfair. It's still a punch in the gut to a woman who couldn't conceive if her life depended on it. And, MOST importantly, it's heartbreaking to think of my daughter, my precious baby girl, who will one day ask why her mom placed her, and then parented her sister just two short years later.
However, this topic is especially timely for me, as Sassy's second birthday is less than a week away. I really wanted to participate this time, and as life would have it, have been given much more "fuel for the fire" in terms of topics and events to discuss.
In response to two of Thanksgivingmom's questions, most applicable to us:
What do you/your family do to integrate open adoption and birthday celebrations?
We've only been at this thing for two years now, so we really only have one birthday (other than, of course, the day of her birth) under our belt, in the most technical sense. Of course, that will change within the week. Prior to Sassy's first birthday, I emailed FirstMom and asked her if she'd be open to receiving a birthday party invitation (which happened to fall on Sassy's actual birthday that year). She did not respond, and we understood that to mean she just wasn't ready yet. I was disappointed, but accepted that. She sent some very thoughtful gifts in the mail ahead of time so that Sassy could open her presents on her birthday. (She did the same for Christmas a couple weeks later, as a matter of fact.) We also received the most amazing card and handwritten letter in the mail on that exact day. She wrote to Sassy and told her how much she loved and had missed her, but that she was so excited she was turning one. Like any mother, she wrote about all the wonderful things she knew God had in store for her precious girl, and how she is uniquely loved, for always. I cried tears of joy upon reading that letter. It was like finding a brick of gold in my mailbox, and I promptly put it away in Sassy's "special box," where I keep all the little scraps of this or that from her biological family for her to have one day.
What do you wish you would see in future birthday celebrations re: involvement with your child’s adoptive parents/birth parents?
I have always wished for some acknowledgment from FirstMom on Sassy's birthday each and every year. I can't imagine going through that day without any sense of remembrance or recognition. I hope (and at this point, feel relatively secure in that hope) that Sassy will always be remembered by her first family on her birthday each year, whether that comes in the form of a phone call, a birthday card, or a gift sent. It has nothing to do with the amount that is spent on such items, but EVERYTHING to do with the fact that she is loved, and therefore time was invested to shop for, pick out, purchase, wrap, and send something to let her know they are thinking of her and loving her and that they remember it's her special day.
Additionally, if I were to hope for more than what I'd consider the "bare minimum," I would like to be able to celebrate Sassy's birthday with FirstMom, at least one year. I wish that someday she will be able to join us for her party, to sit amongst our closest family and friends as one of us, and to revel in the sheer joy of watching our daughter experiencing the thrill of her big day -- the cake, the presents, all of it. I can't say I've had the same level of confidence in this hopeful participation, but I've dreamt of it since the day she was born.
As I sat addressing FirstMom's invitation to Sassy's birthday party a few weeks ago, I noted to my husband that I was fully prepared to not hear a response again this year, but that at least she would know we remembered her and wanted her to feel included and welcome. Additionally, being aware of some very specific happenings in FirstMom's life right now, we could not have been more surprised to receive an email, just days after mailing the invitation, telling us that FirstMom was planning to make the drive that day and join us for the party! I cried again those same tears of joy, in awe of all that she will be able to experience by being here that day. Not just reading it in an update, or flipping through pictures, or watching a video, but to actually BE here and participate... it's amazing to me, and I feel so grateful for that opportunity! Sure, there are worries about her meeting our family for the first time, visiting our house for the first time, and just the inevitable emotions the day will bring... but I feel confident that it will ALL be worth it in the end, if for no other reason than I will have that one more memory for my daughter. Actions speak louder than words, and the fact that FirstMom is setting aside her current challenges to make the effort to be here for Sassy will ring much more clearly than my reminders someday to Sassy that FirstMom does love and care about her.
It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?
So. That was last week. And now it is this week. And as it turns out, we've gone from preparing our family members for our unexpected visitor, to hanging in the balance to see how the remainder of this week unfolds, and if FirstMom will be able to join us after all. This new branch of our adoption story has been an interesting one, and I've been contemplating when, or even if, I would feel "ready" to discuss it publicly. To be honest, I still don't feel ready. I still feel concerned, nervous, and anxious, but I know that life is about to change in a way I was not prepared for, and there's really nothing we can do about it but hang on for the ride.
Sassy is going to be a big sister. We've known this was coming for several months, but in some ways, it still feels as much of a shock as it did the day we heard the news. FirstMom will be delivering another baby girl as early as this week, though her due date is not until after Christmas. She will be parenting this precious little one, and for that, we are grateful. I cannot fathom FirstMom going through a second relinquishment. However, I would be lying if I said I was not nervous. Not about her mothering -- not in the least. FirstMom does parent in some different ways than we do, but I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that she loves her children and cares for them in the best ways possible. But, I am worried about the logistics of many things, and the day-to-day changes it will bring for them. While some aspects of this pregnancy are different than her last, we see many similarities. It breaks our hearts. It's not how it's "supposed" to be. Some of it is circumstantial; much of it is choice. It's a rough cycle to try and break when it's just too "easy" to remain at status quo.
We love FirstMom dearly. We want the absolute best for her and her family. She's in a totally different mindset this time around. It's very clear that she IS happy, and we thank God that this family is being spared from the loss of a child a second time in two years.
But... it's still hard. It's still unfair. It's still a punch in the gut to a woman who couldn't conceive if her life depended on it. And, MOST importantly, it's heartbreaking to think of my daughter, my precious baby girl, who will one day ask why her mom placed her, and then parented her sister just two short years later.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Two girls
Sassy and I went to Walmart this morning for all our usual necessities. I've gotten out of the pattern of going once a week, and have been going every couple of weeks lately. It makes for an expensive trip, but it does mean I'm going to Walmart less frequently, which is always a good thing.
I picked up some new tupperware to pack lunches in (some of our lids have been cracking, and the tubs are starting to look a little cruddy), shampoo, toothbrushes, garbage bags, and other various household items.
For the first part of the trip, Sassy's usually interested enough in whatever I'm putting in the cart. I pick it up off the shelf, hand it to her, she plays with it for a few minutes, and then either hands it back to me or dumps it in the cart. This works well for a while, but then she wants a snack. Today I had packed a small Take-N-Toss container of Multi-Grain Cheerios. I tell her to hold on to it carefully (as carefully as an almost-two-year-old can), and she does... momentarily.
Somewhere between the oatmeal and the olive oil, a sea of Cheerios spilled to the ground. I sighed in frustration, pushed the cart to the side of the aisle, and bent down to start collecting a million little O's. I heard an elderly couple stifling giggles behind me. I looked up and noted to them that I ought to carry a dustpan with me. They just chuckled and said it wasn't a problem. As they passed, they looked adoringly at my little girl, who sat silently in the cart watching me. She hadn't been "bad;" she was just being a kid, and accidents happen.
Next down the aisle came a young mom and dad with their slightly-younger-than-Sassy son. The other mom's eyes met with mine, and she sympathized. I joked that it's not a full day until I clean up Cheerios off of Walmart's floor. I laughed and said that it was usually animal crackers for them.
We finished our shopping. We came home, put our things away, ate lunch, cleaned up, and went outside for a while. Sassy played with sidewalk chalk and I vacuumed out the car. We watched the mailman deliver our mail, and went to get it out of the mailbox -- a big thrill for a toddler! Inside we came to wipe the chalk off her face and hands, change a diaper, look at books, and down for nap. (Well, one of us, anyway.) We must have had enough outside time for her to be tired out to sleep today, which is becoming less and less common here.
Tonight, we will put the items we purchased at the store today inside a shoebox wrapped with Christmas paper. We will send crayons, coloring books, watercolor paints, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hair brush, hair bows, Play-Doh, a stuffed animal, candy, and an assortment of other goodies to another little girl somewhere in this world. We will pack this gift for her and drop it off at a nearby drop-off location. It will be processed and flown to another country where another little girl will receive it. It's possible that this will be her only Christmas present this year. She will not just be told about God's love, but she will be shown it as well.
Two little girls... probably similar in many ways, but different in so many others. We are blessed beyond measure, and though Sassy isn't old enough to understand what we're doing, I want her to grow up having ways to serve others and be a blessing to someone else, even to someone we don't know.
Will you pack a shoebox?
I picked up some new tupperware to pack lunches in (some of our lids have been cracking, and the tubs are starting to look a little cruddy), shampoo, toothbrushes, garbage bags, and other various household items.
For the first part of the trip, Sassy's usually interested enough in whatever I'm putting in the cart. I pick it up off the shelf, hand it to her, she plays with it for a few minutes, and then either hands it back to me or dumps it in the cart. This works well for a while, but then she wants a snack. Today I had packed a small Take-N-Toss container of Multi-Grain Cheerios. I tell her to hold on to it carefully (as carefully as an almost-two-year-old can), and she does... momentarily.
Somewhere between the oatmeal and the olive oil, a sea of Cheerios spilled to the ground. I sighed in frustration, pushed the cart to the side of the aisle, and bent down to start collecting a million little O's. I heard an elderly couple stifling giggles behind me. I looked up and noted to them that I ought to carry a dustpan with me. They just chuckled and said it wasn't a problem. As they passed, they looked adoringly at my little girl, who sat silently in the cart watching me. She hadn't been "bad;" she was just being a kid, and accidents happen.
Next down the aisle came a young mom and dad with their slightly-younger-than-Sassy son. The other mom's eyes met with mine, and she sympathized. I joked that it's not a full day until I clean up Cheerios off of Walmart's floor. I laughed and said that it was usually animal crackers for them.
We finished our shopping. We came home, put our things away, ate lunch, cleaned up, and went outside for a while. Sassy played with sidewalk chalk and I vacuumed out the car. We watched the mailman deliver our mail, and went to get it out of the mailbox -- a big thrill for a toddler! Inside we came to wipe the chalk off her face and hands, change a diaper, look at books, and down for nap. (Well, one of us, anyway.) We must have had enough outside time for her to be tired out to sleep today, which is becoming less and less common here.
Tonight, we will put the items we purchased at the store today inside a shoebox wrapped with Christmas paper. We will send crayons, coloring books, watercolor paints, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hair brush, hair bows, Play-Doh, a stuffed animal, candy, and an assortment of other goodies to another little girl somewhere in this world. We will pack this gift for her and drop it off at a nearby drop-off location. It will be processed and flown to another country where another little girl will receive it. It's possible that this will be her only Christmas present this year. She will not just be told about God's love, but she will be shown it as well.
Two little girls... probably similar in many ways, but different in so many others. We are blessed beyond measure, and though Sassy isn't old enough to understand what we're doing, I want her to grow up having ways to serve others and be a blessing to someone else, even to someone we don't know.
Will you pack a shoebox?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Pumpkins and pacifiers
Sounds like a "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" episode, doesn't it? Or "Kate Plus Eight." Or "Jon Minus Kate." Or whatever they are today.
We're headed to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard tomorrow. I'm excited! Sassy LOVES pumpkins... I mean, they could almost qualify as a "favorite toy" right now. I can't wait to see her face when she sees a field full of them!
We're going to pick apples. I've never been apple-picking before, but since I have all the canning supplies, I'm going to try making homemade applesauce to can. Sassy could eat applesauce every single day if I let her, so I'm really curious to see how much cheaper it is to make my own. Maybe I'll even try making cinnamon apples for dessert tomorrow night. Yum!
I wanted to make her a cute pumpkin shirt this evening, but just ran out of time. When putting her to bed, she HANDED me her pacifier. That has NEVER happened before! I asked "Do you want Mommy to have your paci?" and she just laid there... so I took it with me, closed the door, and braced myself for the screaming. Which came... and lasted for the better part of an hour. I watched her on the monitor, and every time I debated going in, she would quiet down. Around the 45-minute mark, I went in her room, and all she wanted was to be held. It was so sweet... so precious... and gave me hope for the day when we actually WILL give up the pacifier that she might just be comforted by our presence. Which, by the way, that day is not today. We caved. She went to sleep approximately 1.483 seconds after getting that darn thing in her mouth again. *sigh*
So, since I had no intentions whatsoever to start paci-weaning tonight, and since I decided to get caught up on other things instead, Sassy will be wearing a decidedly non-fallish purple cable-knit sweater with a bow to match. (I had already started cute little korker clips to match the pumpkin shirt I had envisioned.) Oh well! It'll be too cold to go sans a coat anyway.
We're headed to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard tomorrow. I'm excited! Sassy LOVES pumpkins... I mean, they could almost qualify as a "favorite toy" right now. I can't wait to see her face when she sees a field full of them!
We're going to pick apples. I've never been apple-picking before, but since I have all the canning supplies, I'm going to try making homemade applesauce to can. Sassy could eat applesauce every single day if I let her, so I'm really curious to see how much cheaper it is to make my own. Maybe I'll even try making cinnamon apples for dessert tomorrow night. Yum!
I wanted to make her a cute pumpkin shirt this evening, but just ran out of time. When putting her to bed, she HANDED me her pacifier. That has NEVER happened before! I asked "Do you want Mommy to have your paci?" and she just laid there... so I took it with me, closed the door, and braced myself for the screaming. Which came... and lasted for the better part of an hour. I watched her on the monitor, and every time I debated going in, she would quiet down. Around the 45-minute mark, I went in her room, and all she wanted was to be held. It was so sweet... so precious... and gave me hope for the day when we actually WILL give up the pacifier that she might just be comforted by our presence. Which, by the way, that day is not today. We caved. She went to sleep approximately 1.483 seconds after getting that darn thing in her mouth again. *sigh*
So, since I had no intentions whatsoever to start paci-weaning tonight, and since I decided to get caught up on other things instead, Sassy will be wearing a decidedly non-fallish purple cable-knit sweater with a bow to match. (I had already started cute little korker clips to match the pumpkin shirt I had envisioned.) Oh well! It'll be too cold to go sans a coat anyway.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Fall is here!
What a gorgeous fall day! The windows are open to let the cool early autumn breeze inside my house, I'm planning to make chili mac for dinner tonight, and I'm enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee with a slice of cherry almond bread leftover from my sister's dessert reception this weekend.
I got to dress Sassy in one of her adorable new fall outfits that has been waiting in her closet for months, and she was SO well behaved at the store today! I'm so proud of my little girl. :)
I checked out our library's children's programs for the upcoming month, and there are a few I'm really excited to take her to. I love this stage she's in of REALLY enjoying fun outings and crafts!
I have plans in the coming weeks to do more canning. I've never canned anything before until I tried canning strawberry jam a few weeks ago. It turned out great and was so much fun! Super easy, too... and store-bought can't even compare with the taste of homemade.
I finally have time to slow down a bit and reorganize my house. I feel like the past few weeks of wedding frenzy have resulted in a dumping grounds of sorts around here, and I do NOT like clutter.
I have just enough fun little crafty projects to keep me busy and entertained. It's nice to have a little something fun to work on just because I enjoy it. There may just be a giveaway in the future... keep checking back... just saying. :)
The next few Saturdays will be spent at fall festivals, visiting family, apple picking, pumpkin patch, and family pictures. So excited for everything coming up!
I love fall. :)
I got to dress Sassy in one of her adorable new fall outfits that has been waiting in her closet for months, and she was SO well behaved at the store today! I'm so proud of my little girl. :)
I checked out our library's children's programs for the upcoming month, and there are a few I'm really excited to take her to. I love this stage she's in of REALLY enjoying fun outings and crafts!
I have plans in the coming weeks to do more canning. I've never canned anything before until I tried canning strawberry jam a few weeks ago. It turned out great and was so much fun! Super easy, too... and store-bought can't even compare with the taste of homemade.
I finally have time to slow down a bit and reorganize my house. I feel like the past few weeks of wedding frenzy have resulted in a dumping grounds of sorts around here, and I do NOT like clutter.
I have just enough fun little crafty projects to keep me busy and entertained. It's nice to have a little something fun to work on just because I enjoy it. There may just be a giveaway in the future... keep checking back... just saying. :)
The next few Saturdays will be spent at fall festivals, visiting family, apple picking, pumpkin patch, and family pictures. So excited for everything coming up!
I love fall. :)
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Thank you, Mommy
Sassy has started saying "thank you, Mommy" instead of just "thank you" in the last few weeks. It is adorable and melts my heart every time I hear her sweet little voice say those words. It really is too precious!
Thanking me for anything from a snack of Cheerios, a book to read, a little toy, or even just at a completely random time when I haven't "done" anything in particular for her has become a hobby of sorts for my sweet twenty-one month old. But I know she understands what she is saying, because she will thank other people (grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles) in the same way, and using the appropriate name for the person.
Last week, as I was putting her to bed, I tucked her in and handed her the first comfort item within reach, which happened to be a little pink stuffed bunny that she's had since she was very, very small. It plays a lullaby and has soft fuzzy ears that she always liked to feel. This bunny was a gift from her grandma -- her biological grandma, "Grandma M."
As I handed Sassy the bunny to snuggle with as she drifted off into dreamland, she looked up at me, and with that precious little voice said, "Thank you, Mommy."
I know she was just thanking me because it has become a habit, a ritual in a way. We have always worked with her to say "please" and "thank you" when appropriate, and so far, we've always had a (mostly) polite little girl. She was happy I had handed her the little bunny to cuddle with, and she thanked me. But, I couldn't help but think of how we never would have had that little bunny from her first grandma, had we not allowed our hearts to be opened toward Sassy's biological family.
Open adoption is not the cure-all for the loss and grief that is caused by severing a family through adoption while creating a new one. It's not a quick and easy fix; it's not a Band-Aid. It's not "adoption without tears." There are still tears, and there are still lots of them sometimes.
But, open adoption is worthwhile. There is value in it. It will provide my child with access to her genetic heritage, and what may be more important to her someday, the option of having a relationship with those from whom she came.
It's not always easy. Sometimes, it's challenging. Often times, it's confusing. It can even be downright hard. But, my daughter? She's worth it. She's worth every single ounce of it.
You are so very welcome, sweetheart.
Thanking me for anything from a snack of Cheerios, a book to read, a little toy, or even just at a completely random time when I haven't "done" anything in particular for her has become a hobby of sorts for my sweet twenty-one month old. But I know she understands what she is saying, because she will thank other people (grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles) in the same way, and using the appropriate name for the person.
Last week, as I was putting her to bed, I tucked her in and handed her the first comfort item within reach, which happened to be a little pink stuffed bunny that she's had since she was very, very small. It plays a lullaby and has soft fuzzy ears that she always liked to feel. This bunny was a gift from her grandma -- her biological grandma, "Grandma M."
As I handed Sassy the bunny to snuggle with as she drifted off into dreamland, she looked up at me, and with that precious little voice said, "Thank you, Mommy."
I know she was just thanking me because it has become a habit, a ritual in a way. We have always worked with her to say "please" and "thank you" when appropriate, and so far, we've always had a (mostly) polite little girl. She was happy I had handed her the little bunny to cuddle with, and she thanked me. But, I couldn't help but think of how we never would have had that little bunny from her first grandma, had we not allowed our hearts to be opened toward Sassy's biological family.
Open adoption is not the cure-all for the loss and grief that is caused by severing a family through adoption while creating a new one. It's not a quick and easy fix; it's not a Band-Aid. It's not "adoption without tears." There are still tears, and there are still lots of them sometimes.
But, open adoption is worthwhile. There is value in it. It will provide my child with access to her genetic heritage, and what may be more important to her someday, the option of having a relationship with those from whom she came.
It's not always easy. Sometimes, it's challenging. Often times, it's confusing. It can even be downright hard. But, my daughter? She's worth it. She's worth every single ounce of it.
You are so very welcome, sweetheart.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Randomness
It's a rainy Friday afternoon. Sassy is napping, and hopefully the dark sky will encourage a longer sleeping time today.
***
I am addicted to Craigslist. I've bought things through them before, but in the last couple weeks have started selling as well. I have a lady scheduled to come today to pick up more of my clutter and hand me cash for it. Yippie!
***
Sassy has been in rare form today. I wanted to pull my hair out by 10:00 a.m. Why, when given 99 choices of activities, will toddlers always choose the 100th thing that is off-limits?
***
We recently turned our dining room into a playroom. Because we play a whole lot more than we dine around here. I love the change, but now I have to find a new spot for unfinished projects to fall.
***
Have you tried the new dark chocolate Reese's cups? Oh... my... word. You MUST! I've eaten four this week, and I wish I had one right now!
***
On Monday, I get to take Sassy to her pediatrician's office for two vaccines she missed. One was not available due to a shortage when we were in last, and the other the nurse mistakenly did not notice she still needed. I really hate the thought of taking her there for the express purpose of getting shots (HATE it!), but I'm also really glad that I keep track of her medical records at home as well, or we might never have caught that.
***
My sister is getting married in a month. The wedding colors are ivory and gold. Beautiful, yes. But please do tell me where on EARTH I can find gold shoes for a one-year-old. In the summer. No white allowed. I can't even find ivory or cream!
***
Lots and lots going on in my head. Some adoption-related. Maybe portions of it will make it to the blog someday. :)
***
I am addicted to Craigslist. I've bought things through them before, but in the last couple weeks have started selling as well. I have a lady scheduled to come today to pick up more of my clutter and hand me cash for it. Yippie!
***
Sassy has been in rare form today. I wanted to pull my hair out by 10:00 a.m. Why, when given 99 choices of activities, will toddlers always choose the 100th thing that is off-limits?
***
We recently turned our dining room into a playroom. Because we play a whole lot more than we dine around here. I love the change, but now I have to find a new spot for unfinished projects to fall.
***
Have you tried the new dark chocolate Reese's cups? Oh... my... word. You MUST! I've eaten four this week, and I wish I had one right now!
***
On Monday, I get to take Sassy to her pediatrician's office for two vaccines she missed. One was not available due to a shortage when we were in last, and the other the nurse mistakenly did not notice she still needed. I really hate the thought of taking her there for the express purpose of getting shots (HATE it!), but I'm also really glad that I keep track of her medical records at home as well, or we might never have caught that.
***
My sister is getting married in a month. The wedding colors are ivory and gold. Beautiful, yes. But please do tell me where on EARTH I can find gold shoes for a one-year-old. In the summer. No white allowed. I can't even find ivory or cream!
***
Lots and lots going on in my head. Some adoption-related. Maybe portions of it will make it to the blog someday. :)
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Leaving on a jet plane (or trying to)
Today is the day I've been waiting for. I'm taking my twenty-month-old daughter (whom I've decided to call "Sassy" for the time being... because it fits) on her first airplane ride to go visit my best friend for a week. I look forward to these annual trips, because it's the only time all year we can get together. It's not that we do much of anything big or exciting, but just spending the time together, laughing about things, getting pedicures, going out for coffee, staying up late and then sleeping in the next morning, and now, watching our daughters play together all makes for a wonderful week that always goes way too fast.
Our flight was to leave at 11:14 a.m. It was delayed by about twenty minutes when we arrived at the airport this morning, but that was fine because it gave us time to find something to eat. Then, due to inclement weather, it was delayed again... and again... and again. I kept watching the estimated departure time creep further and further away. Eventually it became late enough that we would miss our connecting flight to our destination, and as we were the only two people transferring to that flight, they would not hold the plane. And the next connecting flight wasn't until 9:30 tonight.
So, our choices then became to either fly out later this evening (and catch that 9:30 flight), or try it all over again tomorrow. We opted to go with an evening flight tonight. Our great plan of arriving at our destination before dinnertime now becomes arriving close to 11:00 p.m. With a tired toddler. And a tired mommy. Oh, and the flights are booked fairly solid, so there's pretty much no chance of being the "lucky" one to have an empty seat next to us for Sassy to roam around a bit.
Fortunately, we do at least live within a reasonable distance of the airport, so my mother-in-law came to pick us up. Again, due to weather and some interstates that were shut down, she had to take the extra, extra long way to come get us. We spent a whole lot of hours waiting at the airport this morning for no good reason. I pulled Sassy away from more than one sleeping traveler, businessman's laptop cords, and random pieces of luggage, fed her snacks, soothed her with pacifiers, and made every attempt to distract her with the sights and sounds of an airport terminal with nothing to show for it.
Finally, when I was beginning to feel like Tom Hanks' character in the movie The Terminal, she arrived to drive us home. We kept Sassy awake during the trip so she would nap well in her own bed, instead of cat-nap in the car and not sleep at all at home.
As an aside, the original flight has only just minutes ago left... nearly four hours late. My connecting flight is long gone and will soon be approaching our destination without us.
There are worse things in the world. Much, much worse. My dad flew across the country yesterday to attend his brother's very unexpected funeral today. My heart is very heavy for many reasons in that situation.
My dad has also had some pretty significant health problems for several months, and there have been some VERY scary potential diagnoses. Doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, test after test, and they still don't know what's wrong with him. It could be a very treatable condition, or it could be... something I'd rather not go into today.
A very sweet friend is watching her uncle as his body starts to shut down. What compares with the pain of losing a loved one?
I just received an email from a dear member of Sassy's biological family. She wants to know if I can talk to her about what it's like to go through infertility, and if I can relate to what she and her husband are starting to experience. It is a completely unique kind of pain, and even this week has crept up in some frustrating and surprising ways for me.
I'm still really frustrated that we are sitting at home now instead of being thirty minutes away from the end of our travels, and I'm really dreading going through the "good-bye" experience with my husband again at the airport in a few hours. I HATE doing that, and I'm not at all excited about crying and sniffling while going through security for the second time today.
But there are much, much worse things. In the grand scheme of life, it's truly no big deal.
Our flight was to leave at 11:14 a.m. It was delayed by about twenty minutes when we arrived at the airport this morning, but that was fine because it gave us time to find something to eat. Then, due to inclement weather, it was delayed again... and again... and again. I kept watching the estimated departure time creep further and further away. Eventually it became late enough that we would miss our connecting flight to our destination, and as we were the only two people transferring to that flight, they would not hold the plane. And the next connecting flight wasn't until 9:30 tonight.
So, our choices then became to either fly out later this evening (and catch that 9:30 flight), or try it all over again tomorrow. We opted to go with an evening flight tonight. Our great plan of arriving at our destination before dinnertime now becomes arriving close to 11:00 p.m. With a tired toddler. And a tired mommy. Oh, and the flights are booked fairly solid, so there's pretty much no chance of being the "lucky" one to have an empty seat next to us for Sassy to roam around a bit.
Fortunately, we do at least live within a reasonable distance of the airport, so my mother-in-law came to pick us up. Again, due to weather and some interstates that were shut down, she had to take the extra, extra long way to come get us. We spent a whole lot of hours waiting at the airport this morning for no good reason. I pulled Sassy away from more than one sleeping traveler, businessman's laptop cords, and random pieces of luggage, fed her snacks, soothed her with pacifiers, and made every attempt to distract her with the sights and sounds of an airport terminal with nothing to show for it.
Finally, when I was beginning to feel like Tom Hanks' character in the movie The Terminal, she arrived to drive us home. We kept Sassy awake during the trip so she would nap well in her own bed, instead of cat-nap in the car and not sleep at all at home.
As an aside, the original flight has only just minutes ago left... nearly four hours late. My connecting flight is long gone and will soon be approaching our destination without us.
There are worse things in the world. Much, much worse. My dad flew across the country yesterday to attend his brother's very unexpected funeral today. My heart is very heavy for many reasons in that situation.
My dad has also had some pretty significant health problems for several months, and there have been some VERY scary potential diagnoses. Doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, test after test, and they still don't know what's wrong with him. It could be a very treatable condition, or it could be... something I'd rather not go into today.
A very sweet friend is watching her uncle as his body starts to shut down. What compares with the pain of losing a loved one?
I just received an email from a dear member of Sassy's biological family. She wants to know if I can talk to her about what it's like to go through infertility, and if I can relate to what she and her husband are starting to experience. It is a completely unique kind of pain, and even this week has crept up in some frustrating and surprising ways for me.
I'm still really frustrated that we are sitting at home now instead of being thirty minutes away from the end of our travels, and I'm really dreading going through the "good-bye" experience with my husband again at the airport in a few hours. I HATE doing that, and I'm not at all excited about crying and sniffling while going through security for the second time today.
But there are much, much worse things. In the grand scheme of life, it's truly no big deal.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Open Adoption Roundtable: One Small Moment
From the roundtable this time: write about a small moment that open adoption made possible.
When I first read this week's discussion topic, I must not have been paying close enough attention. I thought Heather was asking us to write about a small moment that made open adoption possible. My mistake. :)
But I think I'm on the right page now!
In thinking of our particular situation (and maybe others can relate), the entire relationship has been made up of a lot of small moments. In the past almost twenty months, we've had very few earth-shattering moments where our relationship with "A" is concerned.
And though I would still consider our adoption to be an open one, it is often more "semi-open," or even somewhat "closed" in practice. It's not for lack of trying; but, this is how things have more often than not played out.
So, maybe all the more because of that fact, I greatly treasure the one visit we have had since our sassy little girl was born. She was six months old at the time--the perfect age for still being a cuddly baby, and yet having so much awareness of her surroundings, responding to others, and being fully entertained (and entertaining) with smiles and laughter.
We spent the entire day with A, her family, and friends. We visited with those we had not see in six months, and we met others who had known our precious girl before she was born, not yet having had the opportunity to see her in person. She was passed from person to person, family member to friend, grandparent to grandparent, and mother to mother. She did beautifully the whole time, and on that day more than ever, I was SO grateful for her easy-going nature and flexibility in unfamiliar situations.
She was a baby, though, and naptime did come. I had wondered how we would manage to not push her past her limit, while still allowing A to savor every moment with her. I tried not to worry about it too much beforehand, and just decided we would take the day as it came.
It came time for a bottle, and A gladly did the honors. I loved that she got to snuggle her sweet baby as she ate. There's something so precious about feeding a baby--your baby. After mealtime was over, the room started to quiet down as others went into the kitchen to eat or went outside to chat and play games. People stopped coming and going as much, and the room became still for the first time all day. Maybe others sensed the need for a few quiet moments between A and the daughter she'd missed all these months, or maybe everything just fell into place.
She began to rock our sweet baby. She relaxed her arms so she would lay back in them. She cuddled her and stroked her face. She quietly "shhh'ed" her, just like all mothers do with their tired babies. It was the most natural thing in all the world, and in a way, I felt like I was intruding a bit by being present in the room. I quickly took a few pictures of the two, and then left to sit outside with my husband and enjoy the cookout. I told him what a precious thing was going on at that moment, and how I only wished our little girl would stop her attentive nature for just a few moments, so that she wouldn't be raising her head to look at me. We smiled at what a lovely day it really had been.
Days later, as A and I were corresponding via email about the visit we'd had, she noted that, among other things, she loved being able to rock our daughter in her sleepy state, and how it brought her such relief to see her craning her neck to watch Mommy. She commented that, as a "birth mom," she was so happy to see our girl safe and secure. She had been worried that their strong connection as a family, similar physical attributes, and other characteristics would make us feel sad or upset on that day, and how she hoped we understood that our parenthood wasn't being threatened.
I wrote back immediately and told her that, first of all, I had been worried that she had been upset by the neck-craning, and second, having a sense of acceptance and biological heritage for our daughter on that day was the thing I had most been hoping for on our visit. How funny that the things we were each fearing for the other were the very things that meant so much to us.
I will never forget the image of A rocking our baby girl. It was as if they'd never been separated. I'm so thankful to have the pictures from that day, but I'm also so thankful for the quiet moments between a mother and her child.
When I first read this week's discussion topic, I must not have been paying close enough attention. I thought Heather was asking us to write about a small moment that made open adoption possible. My mistake. :)
But I think I'm on the right page now!
In thinking of our particular situation (and maybe others can relate), the entire relationship has been made up of a lot of small moments. In the past almost twenty months, we've had very few earth-shattering moments where our relationship with "A" is concerned.
And though I would still consider our adoption to be an open one, it is often more "semi-open," or even somewhat "closed" in practice. It's not for lack of trying; but, this is how things have more often than not played out.
So, maybe all the more because of that fact, I greatly treasure the one visit we have had since our sassy little girl was born. She was six months old at the time--the perfect age for still being a cuddly baby, and yet having so much awareness of her surroundings, responding to others, and being fully entertained (and entertaining) with smiles and laughter.
We spent the entire day with A, her family, and friends. We visited with those we had not see in six months, and we met others who had known our precious girl before she was born, not yet having had the opportunity to see her in person. She was passed from person to person, family member to friend, grandparent to grandparent, and mother to mother. She did beautifully the whole time, and on that day more than ever, I was SO grateful for her easy-going nature and flexibility in unfamiliar situations.
She was a baby, though, and naptime did come. I had wondered how we would manage to not push her past her limit, while still allowing A to savor every moment with her. I tried not to worry about it too much beforehand, and just decided we would take the day as it came.
It came time for a bottle, and A gladly did the honors. I loved that she got to snuggle her sweet baby as she ate. There's something so precious about feeding a baby--your baby. After mealtime was over, the room started to quiet down as others went into the kitchen to eat or went outside to chat and play games. People stopped coming and going as much, and the room became still for the first time all day. Maybe others sensed the need for a few quiet moments between A and the daughter she'd missed all these months, or maybe everything just fell into place.
She began to rock our sweet baby. She relaxed her arms so she would lay back in them. She cuddled her and stroked her face. She quietly "shhh'ed" her, just like all mothers do with their tired babies. It was the most natural thing in all the world, and in a way, I felt like I was intruding a bit by being present in the room. I quickly took a few pictures of the two, and then left to sit outside with my husband and enjoy the cookout. I told him what a precious thing was going on at that moment, and how I only wished our little girl would stop her attentive nature for just a few moments, so that she wouldn't be raising her head to look at me. We smiled at what a lovely day it really had been.
Days later, as A and I were corresponding via email about the visit we'd had, she noted that, among other things, she loved being able to rock our daughter in her sleepy state, and how it brought her such relief to see her craning her neck to watch Mommy. She commented that, as a "birth mom," she was so happy to see our girl safe and secure. She had been worried that their strong connection as a family, similar physical attributes, and other characteristics would make us feel sad or upset on that day, and how she hoped we understood that our parenthood wasn't being threatened.
I wrote back immediately and told her that, first of all, I had been worried that she had been upset by the neck-craning, and second, having a sense of acceptance and biological heritage for our daughter on that day was the thing I had most been hoping for on our visit. How funny that the things we were each fearing for the other were the very things that meant so much to us.
I will never forget the image of A rocking our baby girl. It was as if they'd never been separated. I'm so thankful to have the pictures from that day, but I'm also so thankful for the quiet moments between a mother and her child.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
It was bound to happen
My toddler woke up this morning and, instead of politely requesting "Mommy, please come get me up now," she sat and played. By taking off her diaper. And playing in her poop.
Poop on her pajamas, poop on the crib rails, poop on her bedding, poop on the pacifier... still in her mouth. DISGUSTING!!
It took nearly an hour to bathe her, strip the crib of the bedding (including the bumper), scrub the poop off the crib itself, disinfect everything, wash the bumper, hang it out to dry, and wash the rest of the bedding. Just what I wanted to do this morning.
Now the last load is in the dryer, she is napping in a freshly-cleaned crib, and I just remembered I still need to clean the tub.
I've always heard stories like this and hoped my child would never do that. At least I made it this long!
Poop on her pajamas, poop on the crib rails, poop on her bedding, poop on the pacifier... still in her mouth. DISGUSTING!!
It took nearly an hour to bathe her, strip the crib of the bedding (including the bumper), scrub the poop off the crib itself, disinfect everything, wash the bumper, hang it out to dry, and wash the rest of the bedding. Just what I wanted to do this morning.
Now the last load is in the dryer, she is napping in a freshly-cleaned crib, and I just remembered I still need to clean the tub.
I've always heard stories like this and hoped my child would never do that. At least I made it this long!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Open Adoption Roundtable: Wish List
The theme this time is: share your wish list for your open adoption. See the other responses here!
I feel like someone has just given me the permission to dream of my "ideal" situation, all that I hope for our relationship with our daughter's first family to be, and even some of what I fully expect it will not be. I'm continually learning (and re-learning) that this relationship -- not unlike any other -- is a two-way street. I am only in control of my half of the road, but there is a great responsibility in that.
If I could make a wish list in our situation, it would include things such as:
That my daughter will be completely fulfilled, happy, and at peace with her life and its unique circumstances.
That's really all any parent could ask for, isn't it? We all want our kids to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted. We want them to be kind, respectful, honest, and responsible individuals. We do our best to mold them into the people they were born to be, and to be what God created them to be. We never, ever want to see them hurt from something outside of their (and our) control, and that is often times a real and present fear in the adoptive family.
So, even if our adoption never achieves the new heights of openness that I myself would desire, I wouldn't change it, as long as my sweet girl can understand why she was placed, who she was meant to be in life, and how much she is loved by all who are blessed to call her part of their family.
I feel like someone has just given me the permission to dream of my "ideal" situation, all that I hope for our relationship with our daughter's first family to be, and even some of what I fully expect it will not be. I'm continually learning (and re-learning) that this relationship -- not unlike any other -- is a two-way street. I am only in control of my half of the road, but there is a great responsibility in that.
If I could make a wish list in our situation, it would include things such as:
- More frequent visits
- Consistent and reciprocal communication
- Sharing my daughter's birthdays with her first mom in person rather than via letters, cards, packages sent, and late night emails (but, I feel I should note that I AM thankful for those things as well)
- More honest and open discussion of feelings and emotions -- a throwback to what it once was
- Clear answers for my daughter about some fuzzy areas of her story
- Communication from her biological father that comes with a pure intent
- Medical, social, and family information from the paternal side
- An open relationship with her biological father's side... someday... maybe...
- The ability for my child to pick up a phone, write an email, or send a letter to either of her first parents, and the expectation that her communication will not go unanswered
- A feeling of acceptance and love for her in ANY part of her biological family
That my daughter will be completely fulfilled, happy, and at peace with her life and its unique circumstances.
That's really all any parent could ask for, isn't it? We all want our kids to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted. We want them to be kind, respectful, honest, and responsible individuals. We do our best to mold them into the people they were born to be, and to be what God created them to be. We never, ever want to see them hurt from something outside of their (and our) control, and that is often times a real and present fear in the adoptive family.
So, even if our adoption never achieves the new heights of openness that I myself would desire, I wouldn't change it, as long as my sweet girl can understand why she was placed, who she was meant to be in life, and how much she is loved by all who are blessed to call her part of their family.
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