Good things come from Butterflies and Beatles

Ok, so you know how we've been telling you that the wait is going to be long?  That we're trying to settle into it, while we continue to be hopeful for a short process and an amazing experience? The end result being the baby we've been waiting for our entire lives?  We keep talking about how we have to prepare ourselves and find a way to deal with it in the best possible way.  Well, that's likely still true, but tonight I'm once again feeling like it could be just around the corner.  That's what this thing does to you... it messes with your mind, makes you think that either you have the power to will things into being or that you have no control at all.  You never know what your frame of mind will be each day until you're awake and living it.  Today, it feels like it's closer than it's been so far.  Yesterday I thought I'd only be a dog mommy in this lifetime.  Tomorrow?  Who knows.  That's for tomorrow to determine. 
People at work found out we were working on the family thing once we were well into our fertility treatments.  I'd already been through several unsuccessful IUI's and one IVF and miscarriage.  One person at work knew.  That was it.  When I had that first miscarriage, she gave me a St. Gerard metal.  Now, being a non-catholic, I had no idea what that Saint was for or what the metal meant.  When she explained to me that St. Gerard is the patron saint of fertility and parenthood, and that if I were catholic I'd pray to St. Gerard to help me with my infertility, I was so touched. She knew that I'm not catholic but she found what helped her and willed it to help me.  It brought me comfort, and I vowed to wear it until I bring a healthy baby into our home, permanently.  I have stuck to that promise, taking it off only for medical procedures that don't allow jewlery (for instance, when I had my D&E after my second and most devastating miscarriage.  I had it with me, though).  Anyway, I put the metal on a chain and have worn it as a necklace around my neck.  I work with one very catholic and very observant person, who noticed it right away and asked me which saint I was wearing.  I simply said "St. Gerard" and she replied, "Ah... worked for me!"  After that, everyone at work knew that we were trying to start a family and nothing was sacred.  They've all been terrific... so supportive and kind!  In fact, one co-worker brought me a pear tree to plant in our yard in memory of our baby that died.  I was beyond touched by that.  (The tree is thriving this summer and there's several small pears on it!).  They've continued to be supportive by asking about our process, showing interest and sharing a kind word or sentiment... telling me how they think I'll be a great mom when the time comes, reminding us that they're saying a prayer for us that things go well and happen fast.  Tonight, a co-worker hosted a small shower for us.  It was a great backyard BBQ, the food was outstanding, and everyone seemed to have a good time.  This co-worker, Muoy, made a mean Sangria!  They were so generous with Brian and I as well... giving us a baby "survival kit" with some baby essentials, and several gift cards to a variety of stores.  Muoy felt like the butterfly that continued to flit and flutter around the deck was a "sign" that something's going to happen soon.  She seemed so excited and confident about that idea.  We talked about how we got the van, and we have all of the other essentials in place, so it makes perfect sense that it's about to happen, especially with that butterfly.  I like it.  Then, tonight, we happen to be driving the van home, talking and listening to my ipod when a song from the Beattles Lullaby Album that Brian bought our future baby well over a year ago came on.  ANOTHER SIGN!   I know that we can find signs in anything and everything if we look and then assign meaning to them.  I know that our adoption is no closer today than it was yesterday (and yet, it's closer every minute, isn't it?) but I'm deciding.  I'm choosing to be optimistic and let myself believe, just for now, that maybe this is closer to happening than we can even imagine.  Tomorrow, the more negative, or more protective, or more cautious self may emerge.  Tonight, we're throwing caution to the wind and allowing ourselves the luxury of being excited about an impending adoption that feels close, and feels real.
Thank you to all of you who make each and every day bearable.  Thank you for your love, support, generosity, kindness, and caring.  Thank you for walking with us and keeping us moving, one foot in front of the other, even at times when it doesn't feel possible.  You make it possible.

One of many sleepless nights to come

It's Saturday, and it's 4:30 AM, and I'm awake.  Why?  I don't know.  Can't sleep.  I'm not one to usually lose sleep over anything.  Those who know me best know that I love, love, love my sleep.  Even if something's bothering me, I can sleep.  I guess it's a good escape.  But I woke up at 4:00 and now here I am, downstairs checking and updating the blog.  I have a feeling that this will not be my first middle of the night entry.  I'm thinking about my friend Angie and the fact that she's always got insomnia, and I wonder even more how she tolerates it.  I guess she's got no choice, but awake for 40 minutes and already I'm losing my patience.
We bought a mini van today.  Well, technically, yesterday.  The last big purchase in preparation for a growing family.  We'd taken a couple road trips recently with Ruby, and realized that with a baby and all the paraphenalia that comes with a baby, there's no way that it'll all fit into the trunk of either one of our cars.  My beloved Saturn is getting up there in age and miles, and it would have needed to be replaced anyway.  I feel confident that we could get a lot more miles out of it, but the time seemed right.  It's a big change... little car to really big one.  It'll take some getting used to.  So when I woke up a bit ago, I suddenly had baby stuff and car stuff on the brain.  Today a co-worker is hosting a "get together" for us which is in fact a baby shower.   It's co-ed, and I think she thought it would sound more appealing to the guys than a baby shower. She's probably right.  I don't know too many of their husbands/significant others, so it would be awkward to invite them to a "Baby Shower".  So, we have the van, and we'll have a lot of stuff, and we'll have no baby yet, possible for a long time to come.  <sigh>.  I was so happy to be able to let these thoughts out of my head while we were on vacation, and I was afraid that it wouldn't take long for the thoughts to dominate my mind once again soon after returning.  That's exactly what's happened.  I can't stop thinking about the adoption, how the wait is going to be long and painful, what we can do to take care of ourselves and lessen the anxiety around the wait, etc.  Haven't come up with anything too profound yet, but I'm trying.  Trying to believe in Open Arms' philosophy that it "all makes sense" when you have your baby in your arms, and that our baby will "find us" when the time is right.  That stuff is all well and good but in this sleepless moment, it sounds like BS to my ears.  Sometimes it's very hard to not be able to have what you really want. We all know what that's like.  We can't always have whatever we want when we want it, and it feels selfish and spoiled to think we deserve it anyway.  I certainly feel like we deserve it anyway.  It's amazing how I don't think I'd feel selfish if I were pregnant, or able to become pregnant, and wanting a baby.  But it does feel selfish in some ways to sit around waiting and wanting someone to call me up on the phone and offer me a baby.  Why is it any different?  It's not really, but at times it feels like it.  It's so hard to be at the mercy of someone else!  We're counting on Open Arms to give us what most everyone else can take for granted and not work quite so hard for.  I do think that our appreciation for this baby is going to be so high because of all we've been through to finally have a family.  I just pray each day that our wait isn't too long, that "our baby finds us" sooner than later so that things can make sense again.  I hope that big car out in the driveway isn't just going to carry me around by myself day after day when I drive it to work.  I hope the room upstairs doesn't become a Babies R Us storage unit.  We've got so many hopes and dreams, and so many plans... we just want to get on with it.  We want to start living this dream, not just talk about it. 

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the fantasy...

Brian and I met up with Stefani, our social worker, for lunch today.  It was a great break from work, always lovely to eat at Panera in the middle of the day, and great to see Stefani, whom we haven't seen in a few months.  It's been difficult to feel disconnected from the group and feel like we're out here on our own, so this was perfect.  As nice as it was to see her, the message was clear.  We'd better settle in for the long haul.  Everyone at Open Arms, especially Stefani, have been super supportive and kind.  You meet them, and you know they're on your side.  They WANT to make this happen for us, not just because it's their job and they need the statistics, but because they honestly care about each and every person who crosses their path.  I think this is one thing that makes them so unique and so special.  Along with that kindness and support comes the truth.  The tough, sometimes painful, always appreciated truth.  So the truth today was that they're getting busier and busier with more and more adoptive families.  They're doing more outreach.  They're stretching their wings and reaching more and more people.  They're getting really busy.  What that means for us, though, is that the wait is very real and very long.  When we started with them a year ago, they told all prospective adoptive families to expect to wait two years.  They are now telling their new prospective adoptive families to expect to wait 2 1/2 years.  That does not mean we will, but it doesn't mean we won't.  You know, when we heard to expect to wait two years, we also heard them say that it could be very fast as well... that we could wait two weeks, or two months.  THIS is what we heard the loudest.  That the wait could be fast.  We said we were settling in for the two year wait, but truth be told (again)... we didn't expect that at all.  We fully expected that we'd be parents before we knew it, that we'd be the ones they talk about when they said you could have a short wait.  As time marches on and we're still without our child, we still don't actually think it's us they're talking about when they say that you may wait two years.  How could that be???  Two years is a lifetime, isn't it?  We've had nothing but bad luck and heartache so far in this journey, so we feel our time has come and we're so optimistic that the wait is close to being over.  And yet, is it?  As we sat and got our much needed pep talk and support today, I think reality hit a little bit harder.  We need to embrace the fact that we're waiting, and that this could be our status for a long time to come.  I think my heart hurts a little bit more today than it has so far, but it's ok.  It's ok because we can take it.  We're very tough and we're resilient, but right now I don't feel like being tough or resilient.  I will be because I need to be, but I wish I didn't need to be.  We were talking numbers with Stefani.  How long do people really wait?  Why?  The answers, the numbers, are always the same.  Some wait two weeks, some two years.  A lot depends on who walks through their doors, who makes an adoption plan, who's open to what types of circumstances and scenarios.  There's often no rhyme or reason to it.  What she told us, too, is that of the 70 or 80 women a year that they counsel, only 16-18 will make an adoption plan for their babies.  That seems crazy, right?  But when you think about it, that's darn good counseling they're getting.  They work so hard to make sure that this is in the best interest of everyone... mothers, fathers, babies, extended families, hopeful adoptive families, etc.  They try to help the women find resources to help.  The better prepared the birth families are, the less "disrupted" adoptions they have.  If after all of the counseling they receive, they choose an adoption plan, chances are, this is absolutely the best choice for them, and it protects us in the long run. 
I think our meeting today was good, but I feel like it made it more challenging for me.  At least today feels challenging.  I kinda like my little fantasy world.  That's the one I prefer to live in.  It's the one where our baby is getting closer and closer and is almost here... the one that has us parenting before the holidays and not passing by yet another milestone... the one year "wait" mark.  Sit back, relax, and enjoy the fantasy!

Open Adoption: Not So Simple Math

I just read this article and have to share it with you.  I think it's so beautifully written from the perspective of a birth mother.  We can only hope to have this type of relationship.  I know I'll strive for it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/09/fashion/09Love.html

 

7 months and all is well...

Can you believe it?  Our official wait began 7 months ago yesterday.  Of course, we've been waiting in some way much longer than that, but our job was done in terms of trying... paperwork, homestudy, etc.  With our classes being finished and a couple months going by in between meetings or get togethers with our agency, it's at times very easy to slip into an every day routine of just being us, and at times, it's very difficult to just be us.  We spent a week alone together in the Adirondack Mountains this past week, followed by a really nice, really quality get together and dinner with family last night.  The mountains were great for all of the reasons that vacations are great... a break from reality, a time to kick back, relax, and enjoy.  For us, though, I think this trip was pretty significant.  It took us away from a tremendous amount of regular, every day stress, and speaking for myself, some mounting anxiety about how long we've sat and waited for that most important, life changing phone call.  We stayed in a little house on a beautiful, private lake called Loon Lake.  One of the highlights was sitting on the porch our first night, in the pitch dark, and hearing the call of the loon.  Pretty haunting sound, as Brian said, but also pretty beautiful in it's own way.  After that, we were always listening for them, and when canoeing on the lake, looking for the little guys that seem to be quite evasive. (Hmmm... now that I'm describing it like this, it reminds me of something else we're searching for that feels very evasive.  Wonder what that could be?).  We did spot some loons, and got some pictures and some awesome video.  They are facinating creatures!  Anyway, the week away was just what we needed.  We like to believe that this is our last vacation together, just us.  We like to think that our next vacation will include our first child.  It was so important to have this time.  At first, I was a bit resistent to taking a week off when I need to save all of my time off for when the baby does come.  Because I'm not giving birth, I don't require a "recovery" period (so says CHOP), and so, no "maternity leave" so to speak.  Any time off has to come from my vacation time, which seems totally discriminatory to me, but that's another story for another day.  I agreed to go on this trip, though, and it was so good and so important!  Just to have "our" time together, to regroup and appreciate our relationship was perfect.  I never get sick of him, you know... I just don't.  I loved spending every second of my days with Brian.  It's very comfortable, very comforting, and very much... being at home.  We spent a lot of time reading and hanging out, but had a good time playing tourist and doing things we don't otherwise have opportunity to do.  We took a Gondala Ride up White Face Mountain, did a sightseeing flight (itty bitty 4 passenger plane), did a raft trip, some hiking, biking, canoeing, and swimming.  We also checked out the Olympic Center at Lake Placid, walked down the Bobsled shoot and took a boat tour of Lake Placid.  We had some "events", as no vacation is totally perfect.  For starters, the cleaning crew had forgotten to do their jobs this time, and so the house was dirty when we arrived.  The amazing owners made things right though, by driving a couple hours to come clean it themselves and giving us a discount on our rent for the week.  It was nice.  Then, I took a small tumble as we hiked down a mountain and bruised my tailbone pretty good, as well as bruised my shoulder as I tried to catch myself.  Oh, and there was the crow that stole our steak dinner as we let it defrost on the front porch while we went out in the canoe.  I NEVER would have dreamed that a crow would ruin a meal for us, but he sure as heck did.  We just have to laugh at those things, don't we?  Other than those, it was perfect.  Thoughts of the baby were close, but not front and center.  As one wise person put it to me tonight... we were living in the present, not living in the past or for the future.  Just being together, in the present.  It was a relief. 
Brian and I are so good together... we are great companions.  We really appreciate each other.  I know that our dynamic will change so much once the baby's here.  I know it'll change in ways I can't even begin to imagine.  We'll change how we are by ourselves as well as how we are together.  I'm anxious about it, but mostly in really good ways.   I'm sure we'll learn a lot more about each other and ourselves, and we'll learn from each other.  I can't wait!  I was watching family members together last night (I'm sure you're reading this and you know who you are) and I was really loving and admiring the way they are together.  Always quick to joke and laugh, always ready with a hug.  Their dynamic is beautiful, their love for each other right out there and so clear.  They're a family of friends, and it's special.  I just can't wait for our- little family to come together, and to become a family of friends like that.

Who's training who around here?

It hasn't been the best of days, or even the best of weeks for that matter.  I've got puppy blues, among other things.  First, the dog's had diarrhea for three days.  If she were going outside where all dogs should go, I'd be better with it, but she's not.  I came home on Wednesday to find that she'd had an accident in her crate during the day... you can imagine what this means.  Wet messy dog crap everywhere inside the crate, on the dog, and on the wall next to the crate.  Luckily, most of the carpet underneath was spared.  I wasn't happy because it meant a lot of clean up for me, but I wasn't mad because she doesn't do this.  It truly was an accident and she likely has a stomach bug of some sort.  So, out she came and into the tub, where I scrubbed her from head to toe and she sparkled when I was done.  Then on to the bedroom, where I scrubbed the crate and the walls and all was well again.  Ruby was able to get outside to take care of her issues the rest of the night.  Thursday morning, she seemed to be back to normal.  I got up at my now-usual 5 AM to go for our morning walk (another reason I'm having a bad day... the scale says I've gained two pounds!  I've been trying to lose and am in a "Biggest Loser" competition with a friend.  I've doubled my amount of exercise and have eaten mostly well this week, so I should have lost instead of gained those two pounds.  I'm confused and frustrated!), and while on our walk, Ruby did her business and all seemed normal.  No worries.  I came home from work in the afternoon to find a horrible scene.  Ruby had not only had explosive diarrhea in her crate, but had managed to slide most of the crate tray out of the crate and broke it into a million pieces in the process.  Needless to say, the carpet was a wreck from her accident, the walls were completely splattered, and Ruby was in desperate need of another scrub down.  I spent the next two hours scrubbing her, the walls, the carpet, and steam cleaning.  The stain remains, however.  Another ruined carpet.  We couldn't put her in the crate when we left for work today, because it's broken and waiting for the new tray that should arrive tomorrow, so we gated her in the laundry room while we went to work.  Knowing that this was out of the ordinary and potentially stressful for her, we were afraid she'd bust out of the gate and have free roam of the house.  We did some fast puppy proofing before leaving for work.  It worked, to some extent.  When I got home, she had in fact busted out, but hadn't destroyed any of our property.  She had, however, had more diarrhea.  This time, on the formal living room carpet (which WAS nearly white in color, it's so pale beige) and she peed in the formal dining room.  Now, last night I did call the vet, and she's now on a bland diet.  I have no idea why my beige carpet had a huge pile of nearly black "mess" on it, but let me tell you, one more carpet down the tubes, another night of pure frustration on my part, and I'm worried about why my dog is sick. 
So, this may be all more information than you really needed to read about, but I'm sitting here thinking about what life will be like with our baby.  Not only because babies do these things to their Mommy's and Daddy's, but also, how will we handle these dog issues that frustrate me so much when we're also dealing with a baby?  People have constantly told me since getting Ruby that she's practice for the baby.  I actually don't think I need to practice picking up poop and cleaning.  It's not a skill that one aquires through practice.  So, these comments have irritated me to no end since I've started hearing them.  Does everyone who's expecting a baby get a dog so they can practice??? Why do people think I need to practice?  I don't think I do.  But, I DO think it's helping me practice patience and flexibility.  I find myself feeling so frustrated and overwhelmed when these things happen, and I can't stop worrying about why it's going on... is she sick?  Is this behavioral?  What did she eat?  Did I miss something?   If I worry this much about my dog, will I be an uptight, worrywart parent?  I've never thought of myself as uptight, so it's a hard one to imagine, but I sometimes don't like how I perseverate on things like this.
Anyway, the point of this is... who's training who?  Am I training Ruby, or is she training me?  I THINK I'm in charge and have the upperhand, but do I really?  I imagine that when the baby's here, I might question this very thing time and time again, as I perseverate and worry, stress, and clean up everyone's messes.  Tonight is a hard night, but tomorrow will be a new day, and I really do like my job here.  I love this dog, love taking care of her, love training her, and in some weird way, I guess I love being trained right back.

Timelines

Someone at work said to me first thing this morning "Hey, Ter... when's your baby coming?".  I replied "No idea".  She responded "What?  I thought we had a timeline!".  Yeah, a timeline.  What I wouldn't give for a timeline right about now.  I've said it before and I'll say it again (and likely again and again and again...).  We're doing well.  We've done so well throughout all of this.  But darn it, I'd love a timeline!  Luckily for us, the wait hasnt' kept us up at night.  We're both great sleepers, and perhaps sleeping is a way of keeping us sane and keeping icky thoughts at bay.  A good way to escape from thinking about it for awhile.  I was having so many dreams about adoption for awhile there, and those seem to have stopped.  So sleep is peaceful and pleasant.  I know we're still in the "early" phase of the wait, if this is really going to be a 2 year stint.  I know that many people we've met who've already adopted waited between 5 and 9 months.  I try not to focus on that, try not to assume we're close because THEY waited 9 months and we're now at 6 and a half.  Everyone's situation is different and unique.  But of course, in the back of my mind (or maybe sometimes, the forefront!) I'm thinking... well, it seems people don't wait more than 9 months, so we've got less than three to go!  We may have a long, long haul ahead of us.  We recently started thinking about the what if's of not being picked.  What if we're always passed over?  What if this is NOT a sure thing like the people at Open Arms tell us?  As one family adopts and are no longer being "shown", our chances of being picked do not go up.  There are not less adoptive parents to choose from.  New, hopeful families are being added to the mix all the time.  The pool doesn't get smaller.  So why do they say it's a guarantee when it doesn't feel like that at all right now?  I guess they've never had a situation where a family waits indefinitely and never gets chosen.  An adoptive family once told us the story of waiting, and how they felt like they were so ordinary that there wasn't anything about them that made them special.  Why would such an ordinary couple stand out in a crowd of so many others?  What was it about them that would catch someone's eye and touch someone's heart?  This is how we're feeling right now.  When they were finally picked, they had the opportunity to spend time with the birth mother and ask her this question.  What was it about us that made you believe we were the right ones to raise your baby?  Her reply... "you're just like me".  Similar interests, similar lifestyle, similar background, raised in a similar way.  They felt familiar to this birthmother, and she wanted her baby to be raised with what was familiar to her.  We've been told over and over again that you never know what will stand out to someone else.  Our social worker believes that someone will see this picture of Brian and I doing a "sea trek" in Cozumel that we included in our profile and think we're pretty cool.  She thinks that'll be the thing that catches someone's eye and makes them read a bit more carefully about us.  Afterall, we're adventurous enough to walk on the ocean's bottom (we were only 20 feet down, and holding onto a rope, but it WAS cool!) so we can take on anything, right? 
I guess I'm feeling frustrated lately with this whole thing.  We're ready and we've been ready for a long time now, so why isn't it happening?  We're dying to be parents and get this family life started.  We've done all we can, we're good people, we have so much to offer.  The time is right.  We're waiting for you, baby... come on and get here!

6 month waitaversary

Today, as I sit on the floor of the baby's room, we celebrate passing the one year anniversary of my final positive pregnancy test (and getting through it!), celebrate surviving the first six long months of waiting for an adoption to happen, and celebrate making it through one heck of a difficult year.  I'm feeling three things.  I'm feeling sad (frustrated, disappointed, hopeless... fill in the blank) that we're still waiting.  I'm feeling proud of how well we've done it.  And, I'm feeling blessed that we can continue to do it.  Now and then, we're giving these amazing reminders of how precious life is and how we have much to be grateful for, even in the face of adversity.  Every time we look around, there's something so much more challenging that people beside ourselves are facing.  And I'm totally and completely inspired by those people and how they manage to get through those challenges.  To give you an example of what I'm talking about, I've included (below) a story from one friend of mine from high school.  Her name is Tracy, and two years ago, her 5 year old son ran out into the street into the path of an oncoming truck or minivan.  The fact that this little boy is alive today is such a miracle.  Looking at pictures of him, hearing stories of his life... you wouldn't know the journey he's been on, along with his family, for the past two and a half years.  Tracy is on a personal quest as well... she's counting her life's daily gifts in an attempt to discover 1,000 of them in 2011.  You'll notice in her story below that there are numbers... those numbers represent the number of gifts that she's identified so far this year.  I particularly like the line where she says "who has a life without struggle mixed into it?".  Nobody.  So, here I sit, thinking of Tracy and her little boy, her little miracle, as I anticipate ours.  I am thankful for the struggle that's mixed into our life, because we're simply able to have it.  I know that our baby, much like Tracy's, is going to be worth every moment that feels like struggle, and that every moment of this is a gift.

Yesterday after work I went to see the results of Aidan's latest battery of tests. On the way over the river, I marveled at my own state of mind since my first trip to meet this doctor. It is surely a Gift (#491) that I proceeded with courage and peace to face the current scope of his brain injury. And then, if one starts from a place of, "He is alive, and he is Aidan," what could she say that might make me feel we aren't totally and completely blessed??? -He IS and we ARE, and that is why I count these Gifts, because naming what God has done, what is good, is healing my broken heart (#492). It's very odd to sit in an office and have a stranger describe for me the nature of a child I grew from a seed. He needs a structured and nurturing environment. I can do that. His emotions get confused. His judgement is damaged, he won't naturally think of consequences, he won't naturally know what is right from what is wrong. He will have difficulty organizing information, especially verbal information. -- And I am thankful while I am sad because who wants struggle for their child? But who has a life with no struggle mixed into it? So begins the second leg of our journey: the Gathering of Tools. He's going to have to work hard at overcoming (don't we all?) and I'm going to have to be speaking my thought processes as we go along, so his brain can practice hearing the governing voice that got garbled when his head hit the road. There were many good moments in that meeting. But the Gift (#493) that sings to my heart was this, "A brain injury doesn't make you something you are not, it makes you MORE of what you are. Aidan is sweet, loving, and sunny. You are lucky!" Sometimes doctors say things that I already know.

Be thankful today.  Be thankful for something... there are many, many things to choose from.  Even things that feel like difficulties or challenges are things to be thankful for.  Those are the things that are real, that make us stronger, that help us appreciate the good times as well as the people who grace our lives.

Showers of Love

I do not know a lot about the baby we'll have one day.  We don't know what the race of the baby will be.  We don't know if it'll be a boy or a girl.  We don't know what state the baby will be born in.  We don't know what the baby's familys medical history will be, or what their circumstances will be.  We don't know if the baby is coming soon, or if it'll be far into the future.  But I do know one thing about that baby.  That baby is going to be so loved!  Not only will he or she have our immediate and extended family loving him or her, but hopefully also the birth family (immediate and extended), and also the family that's been created over the years...the family of friends that surround us and hold us close.  I feel, and I know that Brian feels so fortunate to have so many incredibly amazing people in our circle.   I don't know why it continues to amaze me, how kind, generous, and sincere people in our lives are, because it's consistant and constant, but I am.  Yesterday, Kelly planned and hosted a really sweet and special baby shower for us.  Thank you, Kelly.  It was wonderful to have Mom and Mom (Mary) and Stacey there, and also the friends who have been there throughout not only this entire adoption process, but also during the hard fertility treatments and subsequent miscarriages.  They have been our rock in so many ways.  I don't want to forget those that were unable to make it yesterday who have never failed to be there, supporting and loving us.  We are so blessed and so thankful!  I can't say enough how much every bit of this means to us.  I know this kid is going to have the largest, most loving "family" ever, and I can't wait for him or her to get her and start to bask in all of this love!

Travel

Well, last week I had a business trip... a conference, in Chicago.  Some of you know this crazy, someday- to -be -funny story of a trip gone bad because of weather and travel issues, but for those of you who don't, let me share...
I arrived at the airport after Brian dropped me off on Wednesday at 4 PM for a 6 PM flight.  I was going to be meeting 4 other co-workers there.  The first potential issue was that the security line was so long I couldnt' see the end of it and people were taking the moving walkway to get to the end quicker.  It was crazy.  Thankfully (and a good sign, I thought) the line moved quickly and after a mere 45 minutes, I was through and ready to wait for boarding.  I didn't see my friends right away, but assumed they were lost in the line somewhere down the road.  I got a bite to eat and settled into the oh-so-comfortable chairs at gate B3.  Waited awhile and finally saw one of the girls I was expecting.  I dropped my stuff with her and ran to the bathroom.  Got back in time to hear that we were delayed almost 4 hours due to storms in Chicago.  Mind you, it was beautiful and clear in Philly that day.  Oh, well.  Worse things could happen.  And, they did.  First, we boarded 10 minutes after they announced the delay, and then we sat for a bit on the plane.  We  taxied away from the gate and out onto the tarmac.  We waited.  Finally, around 7:30 they said we were going back to the gate and we could get off and stretch our legs, if we wanted to.  We were to depart around 9:45.  They said to come back at 8:15 for an update.  Ok.  Off to get a snack.  We got back to the gate at 8:15 to hear "Final Boarding Call for flight 707 to Chicago for immediate departure".  Oh, crap.  We almost missed it, but we didn't.  We got on, the pilot told us that the temp was 64 under partly cloudy skies in Chicago, but we'd be passing through some storms and there may be a little bit of turbulance.  Ok.  I don't like that, but ok.  Started out fine.  No turbulance.  A while later, an update that all was going well and that our path was taking us around the storms.  Good.  Then, after being in the air 45 minutes to an hour, the pilot informs us that we're making a U-turn, heading back to Philly, and the flight was going to be cancelled at that point.  WHAT?  We all waited for the punch line... we were certain that he was joking.  He wasn't.  We arrived back in Philly a little bit after 11 PM.  When was the last time YOU took a 2 hour ride on an airplane but didn't go anywhere?  When we got back to the gate, we were informed that the desk to re-schedule the flight was closed for the day and that our bags would be going to Chicago, where we could pick them up once we arrived, if we arrived.  We also learned that 3 flights from Philly to Chicago were cancelled earlier in the day, meaning that any and all flights on Thursday were booked solid and we had no hope of getting there the next day.  To make a painfully long story a little bit shorter, we spent time trying to figure things out in the airport that night before I finally got in a cab at 1 AM to head home, bag in hand (everyone threw a fit until they agreed to take our bags off of the plane!).  It was a very expensive cab ride, but I got home safely without having to wake Brian up in the middle of the night to come get me.  It takes a good 45 minutes to an hour to get to our house from the airport, so it would have been a 2 hour ordeal for him on a work night when he had some important things going on the next day.  We spent a few hours the next day trying to work things out... was it worth it to go to this conference two days after it started?  Would our hotel rooms be saved for us?  Could we re-book the shuttle that was to take us to the conference?  Would we have to pay the cost of the conference if we skipped it at that point?  In the end, we got up in the wee hours of Friday morning to catch a 6:45 AM flight out, got to Chicago relatively event-free, and made it to the hotel by 4 PM.  We missed all sessions that day, and just had Saturday and Sunday morning left.  While the weather was gorgeous and hot here, it was dreary, rainy, and cold there.  I didn't have time to see the city, which was disappointing as I've heard it's a great place to visit. I did eat some of their famous deep dish pizza, though, which was all that it was promised to be. 
So, while on this crazy adventure, I was thinking about Stefani, our social worker, and remembering her words "Live your life!  Go to Mexico if you want to go.  You'll be surprised at how quickly you can get home if you need to, if you're chosen by a birthmother while you're away".  Yeah, right.  If I learned anything from this trip, it's that I WILL NOT make plans to fly out of town again before the baby comes.  Not that we won't live our lives.  We will.  But we'll do it within driving distance of PA and NJ.  It was so stressful... and I was just going to a conference that in the grand scheme of things was relatively unimportant.  Add something life changing, a dream about to come true to that, and what've you got?  The biggest stress I could probably imagine, so I'm going to just imagine it and not live it.  I did imagine that the baby would make an appearance on Friday night, so that I'd have to turn around and go back after a struggle to get there.  That would have been stressful, but in the best possible way.  I would have completely embraced that!  But, it didn't happen and we continue to wait.  We've got some things planned for this summer.  We're trying to stay busy and stay optimistic. We're not sitting by the phone.  But all in all, we do hope and pray that that phone call will come soon. 

"Heart Cries"

I've been following this incredible blog called "Heart Cries" by a woman named Rebekah who's a parent by adoption.  It's a pretty amazing story of how she came across the birthmother and how they were matched.  Coincidentally, both the birth mother and the adoptive mother are named Rebekah, spelled the same way.  Rebekah the adoptive parent and her husband Ben are starting the process again, and going through the foster care system this time.  Rebekah is a very religious person who relies completely on her faith to get her family through this whole experience.  She's very resilient, and very determined.  She's also a true blogger.  Recently, in one post her husband said that he's going to become a blogger.  He's going to blog about living with a blogger, and it's going to be called "Gall Bladder Cries".  That made me laugh out loud.  Anyway, Ben and Rebekah have an incredibly special relationship with their son, Tyrus's birth family.  It's probably the ideal relationship, one that we hope to share with our own child's birth family when the time comes.  It's a perfect example of what a little bit of understanding and a lot of love can accomplish. Tyrus is a very lucky little boy to have so many people who love him!  I've actually been in touch with Rebekah, and I thought you might be interested in seeing some of her recent posts.  She's posted some video clips of her and Rebekah, Ty's birth mother, answering questions that her "followers" posted.  It's so awesome to see the two of them interact with each other.  They are truly a family.  Go ahead... check it out.  Heart Cries.
On another note, I was talking with someone tonight about anticipating what our experience with the birth mother/family might be like.  I told her that one of my fears is how I will balance the feeling of extreme joy that we'll be feeling with the concern for the birthmother and her grieve, loss, and sadness.  I do worry about feeling so sad for her that I can't appreciate our joy.  I do tend to worry about everyone else, in case you didn't know that yet...and I feel what they're feeling pretty deeply sometimes.  This person I was talking to is very wise, and she asked me if I thought the birth mother might feel some relief.  She said that she thinks Brian and I are very solid and loving, and that it shows through, and that the birth mother may really not want, or not be able to parent.  Knowing that the people she chose are solid and loving might actually give her tremendous relief.  I hadn't thought of it like that before... and it helps so much!  It's actually really hard for me to envision the moment when the baby is placed in our arms and we're told we can go... leave the hospital as a family.  Another adoptive family once said that they left feeling like they'd gotten the most precious gift, and yet they felt like they were stealing the baby from someone.  The baby's birth grandfather had actually handed the baby to them, and he completely broke down when that moment came.  They said that the sadness they felt for him and for the rest of his family lingered for a long time.  So, having heard that, I started to wonder how I'd handle it... I know I'll feel so much for her. I know a part of my heart with break for her. But now I feel a bit better, imagining that there could be some relief and some comfort in knowing that this baby will be loved so much that it's ridiculous. I guess the bigger part of me will be able to put that heartbreak aside, knowing that she made this plan because she believes in it, believes it best for the baby, and believes that we're the best ones out there to raise him or her.  We'll take that responsibility, that honor, that gift, and we'll begin our beautiful life together.

Five months and waiting...

Hello out there...
Here we are, 5 months into our wait.  <sigh>.  Seems as if my dreams and my intutition were slightly off.  I was pretty convinced (or just wishfully thinking) that our baby would find us in April, or around the 4 month mark.  But, nope.  Not yet.  What we keep hearing is that when the time comes, and we've got our child in our arms, that it's all going to make sense. The road we've had to travel to become parents will make sense and it'll all be worth it.  Intellectually, I'm sure that's true.  Emotionally, it's hard to hear and harder to swallow.  Time will tell.  I'm sure I'll be reporting that it's all coming together.  I will be saying that I understand now why things happened as they did, etc.  But sometimes it just feels like crap.
We just went to our last seminar.  Open Arms does such a great job of educating us on all aspects of the process.  We recently went to one on The Developmental Understanding of Adoption, and then one on Genetic Vulnerabilities.  We have been to each and every seminar that they've offered, and we've been through their entire repetoire.  It feels good to have gotten through them all, and at the same time, it stinks to know we've been around long enough to get through them all.  I'm already missing the consistent contact that the seminars allow us to have with Open Arms.  Feels like someone's holding our hands when we know we can count on seeing them once month.  I feel sort of out there and alone now, like we're growing up and someone thinks we don't need them as much, when in fact we'll likely feel like we need them more.  They've always told us that we're never alone in this, that they're never more than a phone call away, to let them know what we need and how they can support us best.  Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE Open Arms Adoption Network?  Have I told you how fantastic they are and how caring they are?  We are so fortunate that we found them and chose them.  They certainly have never treated us like just another family trying to adopt a baby.  They have this amazing way of making us feel like we're the ONLY family trying to adopt a baby and that they are here for us and us alone.  Of course that's not true, but they certainly treat us this way and it means so much to me!
Hey, have I told you lately that I'm tired of waiting?  We are ready for this, so if any of you have connections out there and can make the wait come to an end, this would be a really good time to use those connections!  Feel free...

Mother's Day

"Teri,
With Mother's Day approaching, I wanted to reach out and let you know I was thinking about you and also to share this article about waiting.  I remember how difficult it was for me when I was waiting.  Please know that you are not alone.
Peace and Love,
Stefani"

This is what I found in my inbox yesterday, from our social worker, Stefani.  It was so touching to me.  (see earlier post "The Weight of the Wait" to read the article that she was referring to here.  What struck me as I read her email and then re-read this article was the fact that until that moment, I hadn't thought about Mother's Day in terms of myself.  It sort of crept up on me, actually, and in thinking about it, I thought about my mother, and my mother in law, and how much I love and appreciate them.  I thought of it as their day, not mine.  I hadn't even realized, until that moment, that maybe I should feel sad.  And then, I wondered, why don't I feel sad?  This should be my first mother's day as a mother, and yet I'm not.  We're still sitting here waiting, and sometimes, grieving a little bit.  Yes, there are moments where I feel the weight of the wait, and it's a painful feeling.  There are moments where I feel like my arms ache from the weight of the emptiness in them.  But, those are moments and they're fleeting.  Some moments are pretty darn hard.  But you know what?  This doesn't feel too real.  It's sort of like something we constantly talk about and plan for, and yet it's never going to happen.  It feels that surreal.  That's frustrating, more than sad.  More than not, we're just excited and the wait hasn't become too overwhelming just yet.
We went to another seminar last night.  This one was on the developmental understanding of children who have been adopted.  We liked the speaker a lot... someone we've heard speak on other topics before, but we like her more personally than we like her as a speaker.  She's quiet, not too dynamic, and has great stories... oh, how she loves to tell her stories.  She's someone that could probably talk for hours in tangents.  But, she didn't address the topic at hand too well.  It was a bit disorganized and not too thorough, but that's ok.  We know where to find the information as we need it.  She talked a lot about loss in adoption... both for the adoptive family as well as the adoptee.  She talked about appropriate adoption language.  She talked about the art of keeping information about the child's adoption private but not secretive so that the child is the first to hear the details that are his/her story.  She talked about how to navigate that part of our journey and our story with others who are going to be curious and ask well meaning but potentially painful or intrusive questions.  She told many stories about her own daughter by adoption.  Anyway, while we were there, we were talking to another prospective parent who's been waiting now for a couple of months.  I asked her how she's doing with her wait, and she just shrugged and said "We're doing fine.  I mean, we're not crazy yet.  I don't know how I'm supposed to feel".  I think that's what we're feeling, too.  How ARE we suppoed to feel?  Am I supposed to feel sad on this upcoming Mother's Day because I would have been a mother had my baby lived?  Am I supposed to feel sad because the adoption hasn't happened yet?  Am I supposed to be going out of my mind with frustration and anxiety because the adoption hasn't happened yet and we don't have that little baby to love?  Sometimes, those types of feelings hit us hard and out of the blue, so should I expect that?  I think I'm just going to not worry to much about how I'm supposed to feel, and just feel whatever I feel whenever I feel it, knowing it's ok.  We will be ok.

4 month waitaversary

That's right.  Today marks 4 months of waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  How many more posts like this will there be?  I won't predict that.  No sense trying. 
We started our 4th month with a celebration of Brian.  His birthday was on Thursday, and for a few months, I was busy planning a surprise for him.  Wanting it to be fun, low key, relaxed, and social, the plan was to go to a minor league baseball game with an all you can eat buffet.   It was a day full of surprises.  Brian's nephews, his brother and sister-in-law came up from Virginia and met us at a local restaurant.  Brian had no idea, and it was a really great surprise.  That would have been enough, actually.  He was pretty happy.  But, then we went to a bakery to pick up a chocolate chip pound cake that he also didn't know about.  From there, back to our house where Stacey, my parents, Brian's cousin from Pittsburgh, our friend Diana and her son Carlos from D.C., our friends Joan and Jim, and our friend Val were all waiting for us.  Terri joined us later.  Brian had no idea!  It was awesome!  I was a bit nervous... Brian's not one for a big surprise like that, feeling unprepared, having all of the attention focused on him, etc.  But, he was happy and he handled the unpreparedness exceptionally well.  The problem was that yesterday was a major storm... monsoon, actually... and the game was called off.  It was so disappointing, and for me, a bit stressful.  I hadn't come up with a plan B (yep, I'm an optimist!), and I hadn't gotten any food, snacks, drinks, etc. to have on hand just in case, because I couldn't have explained that to Brian.  "Well, Bri, we don't drink soda, but I just thought I'd buy a few cases of it at the store for no particular reason whatsoever.  I also just stopped and got some beer just in case we're inspired to drink some, which we never do."  Right.  So, once we  got home and Brian got his shock of the day when he walked in and saw a room full of people waiting for him, I ran off to the store to get some snacks and sodas.  We called Dominos for help with feeding the hungry crowd, and we spent the rest of the night hanging out, watching sports and "X-Men" on TV (well, the guys and the boys did), and talking.  It was a lot of fun.  Carl, Ana, and the boys along with my mom and dad spent the night, we enjoyed donuts and bagels for breakfast, and then after my parents left, the rest of us went to Valley Forge National Park to walk around. The boys played some Neanderthal baseball with a large stick they found in the park, and after that we went and got sandwiches and cheesesteaks for lunch.  Jaime got an 18 inch cheesesteak... can you even imagine?  I feel sick just thinking about it.   Are you sensing a theme here?  Eat until you're sick... that's how it felt, but it was fun.  It was so nice spending time together.  Made me realize again how many wonderful people we have in our lives... how people are so kind, caring, flexible, and supportive.  We couldn't feel luckier to have each and every one of you. 
Having everyone around this weeknd, and the planning that has taken the better part of two months, was also incredibly helpful in temporarily forgetting about the wait.  Well, we never really forget about it, but it was helpful in putting those thoughts on the back burner rather than in the forefront of our minds.  I did think, more than once, that it would have been a pretty incredible birthday present for Brian if the call had come yesterday amongst the chaos.  We could have handled it... really!! 
So, now the birthday celebration is over, but we're going to try to reschedule that game, and we'll do that while we continue waiting.  We'll continue to do the little things that we do to prepare... collect more baby things, however small, read all we can, attend our seminars that Open Arms offers, go to the coffee talks and stay connected to the people in our cohort.  Maybe next year's birthday celebration will include another face.  A newer, sweeter, and lovely face.

The gift of going through the process

Today is April 14, 2011 and that means it's Brian's birthday... thank you, Mary, for giving life to this beautiful person who means so much to me!   His light stretches far and wide, and I'm so glad to be inside of it!  To match that light, the weather was just about perfect today, with lots of sunshine and warmth.  Too bad we missed it.  We both had to work, then head into the city for an adoption meeting about PA and NJ law.  First, though, a very romantic, celebratory birthday dinner at a food court under construction.  Yum... Chic Filet!  We enjoyed a spectacular piece of the best, most moist chocolate cake compliments of Wegmans, too! 

The meeting tonight was very overwhelming.  Learning all of the in's and out's of adoption laws in PA and NJ is no easy task.  It's complicated.  It's stressful.  It's scary.  There's so many scenarios that could play out... if the birth father is known, if he's unknown, if he could be one of multiple men, if he's interested in parenting, if he's not, etc. There's the issues surrounding when the birth mother can sign consent and when she can't, what the window of opportunity is for her to change her mind, what if she's on the fence, etc.  Then there's tax issues, and health insurance issues, and just plain issues.  I had this moment during the seminar when I thought to myself... I change my mind.  I don't want to do this.  It's too scary and we're too vulnerable.  We're at the mercy of too many other people and not enough in control of our own destiny.  I want to turn back the hands of time and change history.  I want a simple experience of being pregnant and giving birth, so that the baby is ours from the get go.  It's not questionable, it's not challenged, and it certainly wont change.  I can't begin to imagine the experience of receiving that baby into our arms and our hearts, bringing him or her into our home, loving that baby fully and deeply, and then having to return that baby to birth parents.  It's a small, small possiblity that this would happen, but even a small chance feels like too big of a risk.  Our hearts are so incredibly breakable, and they are so hard to mend.  They are fragile.  Do we want to mess with this and risk breaking our hearts more than they already have been broken?  Of course, in reality the answer is yes.  This is one risk that is so worth taking, and in the end, our hearts will be more full than they've ever been.  The moments when we question this process are few and far between, but it wouldn't be right not to acknowledge them.  Doing that doesn't make them non existent.
This process... this journey...it's such a beautiful thing. And it feels so right.  In a way, it feels like an honor to be going through it, and I almost want everyone I know to experience it, too.  It feels like an honor for reasons I can't fully understand or describe.  It sort of feels like we're "chosen ones", both literally and figuratively.  We will be chosen, by the birthfamily.That is special.  I feel like we're in on something that only a select group of people get to be in on.  It's brought people into our lives that we wouldn't ever had in our lives otherwise.  We have an understanding that's unspoken with these people.  We're a part of an exclusive club, and though that never was my thing (to be exclusive or a part of a "club"), this feels important and special.  It's given us a grace that we wouldn't have otherwise known.  I guess there will be moments that are so frightening and overwhelming that we want to run and hide, but we wont because our baby is counting on us to be there when he or she arrives.  We're meant for this, and the path may not always be easy, but it'll still be our path.  It's a tremendously important gift that we've been given.  We have to cherish and appreciate it each and every day, even when it feels harder than anything else we could ever imagine. 

Becoming Connected

Today, we went to a potluck picnic that was hosted by Open Arms, our agency.  It turned out to be perfect weather for a picnic.  It was held at a community center in a planned community in Bucks County.  All of the families that are working or have worked directly with Open Arms were invited.  There probably was about 30-40 families there.  A great turn out.  We were really looking forward to going to this.  Open Arms offers a lot of opportunity for families to connect with each other and find support.  There were all kinds of families there, and people in all stages of the adoption process.  There were many, many families that have already adopted, and a handful of us who are waiting.  We're starting to get to know some of the people that we see over and over again in the workshops that we go to, or at the Coffee Talk.  It's reassuring to have the opportunity to ask questions, hear stories, and learn from other people's experiences.  It's actually also nice to be a few steps ahead of some other people, and be able to offer them words of wisdom or reassurance that they'll get through each of those steps eventually, too.  It makes us feel good to know that maybe something we've done already will help someone else.  Becoming connected feels important right now.  We've done so much to prepare, and there's little left to do but wait.  We've found the day care, the pediatrician, and the nursery furniture.  We've gotten some diapers and a couple outfits.  We've got some books, rattles, and onesies.  We've got the car seat and practiced putting it in the car.  So now what?  People keep telling us that you prepare as best you can, and then you wait, and you feel like it's never going to happen, and then suddenly you get the call and life becomes chaotic and out of control in an instant.  Suddenly, it's on... full speed ahead.  Waiting for that moment, when life becomes chaotic, feels like torture at times.  Becoming connected helps. We're finding people who know exactly what we're going through, how desperately we want it, how sad we feel at times because it's been such an agonizing struggle, and how impossible it all seems, though we know it's not.  Today one person, now a mother, said that when waiting, she felt like they'd never get picked because there was nothing special about them... they were just an ordinary couple leading an ordinary life.  They didn't do any world travel.  They're only moderately cultured.  They hang out at home and do house stuff.  We get it.  We feel like that.  When you're one couple in a sea of hopeful parents, and you read their "hello letter" and it sounds so similar to yours, it's disappointing.  You worked so hard to make yourself stand out while being true to who you actually are, and now you find that there's people out there who're just like you, or who seem better than you in some way, and you wonder, is there something here that's going to make someone pick us over them?  What is it that makes us special to someone else... someone who will pick us to raise her baby?  We let these thoughts run through our minds, because they will, like it or not, and while that's happening, we fight with ourselves to just let it go, let things unfold as they will, and as they're meant to unfold.  We're reassured over and over again that once that baby is in our arms and in our hearts, that all of this will melt away... all of the time, energy, anxiety, worry.  All of the agony of the wait will vanish, as if it never happened, and everything will make perfect sense.  All will be right. Becoming connected to people who try to believe that, too, and to people who once tried and now know it to be true... that's what helps.  It feels good to be building those relationships, to be making new friends, to belong to this incredible world of incredible people and children.  

Scenes from the pot luck picnic

Lots of fun for the kids

Two of the children at the Picnic having  fun with the beach ball

This is a copy of a post that our agency copied into their blog.  Hits home.

Archives

- 2011 -

April

March

The Weight of the Wait

Posted by: Stefani Moon on Wednesday, April 6, 2011 at 2:06:57 pm

This article is re-printed with permission of the author, Julie Corby, a parent by adoption. When it was first written Julie was in the midst of her waiting process. Although her adoption journey was an international one, difficulty waiting can be universal to all adoptions.
 What are your thoughts? How are you coping with your wait?
-Stefani Moon
The Weight of the Wait - by Julie Corby
I am sitting on my couch in my pajamas. I pop another Hot Tamale into my mouth. Wads of used tissue and empty candy boxes surround me. My two pups bolt from the room to avoid hearing the strange sounds emanating from my chest. It is 8 a.m., and I have spent the last 90 minutes watching adoption videos on YouTube, and crying.
At the end of 2007 my husband and I made an adoption video of our own. It was taken the evening we filled out our application to adopt two children from Ethiopia. I am uncharacteristically giddy in the video. I speak, very animatedly, to our future children. I tell them that we love them, and that we can’t wait to meet them. We toast to our future, and to what we hope will be a happy ending.
My husband and I have spent the last nine and a half years trying to become parents. We have battled infertility. We have had four short-lived pregnancies, and I have had a bout of thyroid cancer thrown in for good measure. International adoption, we thought, would at long last bring the pitter-patter of little human feet to our Los Angeles home.
On January 10th, 2008 our adoption agency approved our application. We became “officially waiting” and were told to expect news of our children in six to nine months. At last we had our resolution. I would be a mother to someone who did not have fur, and my husband would be a father to someone who did not eat Milkbones. Happiness would inevitably ensue.
Sixteen months later I am chin-deep in my adoption wait, and struggling to remain above water.
Under Pressure
The wait during any adoption—international, domestic, foster-adopt—is weighty. It weighs on your mind, on your heart, and on your spirit. It takes you to exhilarating highs, and pushes you down into some deep, dark lows. The emotions are intense, and the happy ending feels like it just may end up being another thing that doesn’t work out.
The wait gives you plenty of time to consider every aspect of your adoption. It causes you to examine your own motives and needs. What may have started as a joyful journey to family becomes something much more complicated. The doubt and uncertainty of the wait, for me, is compounded by feelings of self-loathing and guilt as I realize I am waiting for someone else’s tragedy to unfold. My future children will have lost everything. I will take them from the only lives they have every known and plunk them smack down into the middle of mine.
Adoption is about loss—loss for the birth family, and loss for the children. With that in mind it seems unconscionable to use the word difficult when referring to what a potential adoptive family goes through during the wait. But there’s no denying that the constant uncertainty and lack of control do make it a challenging time.
Ann Alden of Washington, DC, has been waiting 20 months for a domestic adoption with no matches. “I wish that I had better coping strategies. It’s so hard to wake up every day and wonder, is this going to be the day?” she says. The daily disappointment with no definite end in sight makes her wonder whether she can go on. “At this point it’s very tempting to just quit completely, not because we don’t want to be parents but because it’s too hard to deal with the uncertainty.” All potential adoptive parents wait, knowing that at any time the whole thing could fall apart. In international adoption, countries close down, and adoptions stop. In domestic adoptions, birth mothers change their minds. In foster-to-adopt adoptions, children are reunified with their birthparents. It is all heart-wrenchingly precarious.
Many potential adoptive parents reach the lowest levels of despair, according to Carole LieberWilkins, a marriage and family therapist in Los Angeles who counsels people in all stages of the adoption process. Unmet expectations and lack of structure are the hardest parts of the wait, according to LieberWilkins. “Not knowing when something will happen leaves us feeling like it never will.” It can be hard on couples, too: Both men and women experience fear, anger, and frustration, LieberWilkins explains, but they experience it differently. “Women are ready and they just need a baby in their arms,” she says of the clients she’s seen. Because men and women do not experience the wait in the same way, LieberWilkins emphasizes the importance of respecting each other’s feelings.
Wait Training
The wait definitely gives you a lot of time to reflect, educate yourself, and gather resources. I have had time to research and select the best elementary school for our kids. I started an online book club featuring books about adoption, parenting, and Africa. I have gathered a blogroll of smart, adoptive families who are handling challenges like attachment and racism in ways that I would like to emulate. I have started to learn Amharic (the main language spoken in Ethiopia). Over a year ago we started attending a monthly gathering of adoptive families, whose support has been invaluable. We have made some incredible friends and met some truly astonishing children. Everyone who manages the wait finds his or her own ways to do it, but here are some particularly helpful strategies.
•    Stretch your spontaneity. Seeing an impromptu movie, sleeping in, going away for the weekend, and staying out late are all things that will be more difficult when your child comes home.
•    Exercise your libido. Several therapists advised me to have more sex, and my friends, now home with their children, corroborated (adding, “Do it now, while you still can!”).
•    Run it down. Kathie Krause of Chicago, Illinois, spent her wait training for a triathlon. In the six months between her immigration approval and her child’s referral, she completed five sprint distance triathlons and lost 40 pounds. “It definitely filled the time and gave me something else to   focus on,” she remembers. “And now that I’m carrying and chasing a 25-pound 13-month old, I’m glad I lost the extra weight.”
•    Be the change. Volunteer; find a cause to get behind. Meghan Walsh, of Madison, Wisconsin, raised $16,000 dollars for Doctors Without Borders while waiting for her son Zeke to come home from Ethiopia.
•    Practice. Offer to baby sit. Take a CPR class. Childproof your home. Learn about strollers and car seats. Find a pediatrician.
•    Join the club. Find a group to join, online or in person. In some cases you may find that the only thing you have in common with the members is the desire to adopt; in others you may find friends you feel you’ve known your entire life.
•    Keep track. Start a journal. This can be the most private written record, or a very public online blog. It may be something that you will want to share with your child when they are finally home with you.
Second Wind?
It seems like the strain of the wait would lessen once you’ve been matched with a child, but LieberWilkins suggests the wait may actually become more unbearable when there’s a face attached to it. When the parents receive a photo or a video of a child, this person they’re waiting for is no longer a fantasy for them but an actual person, and they begin to bond. “That truly becomes their child,” she says, “and the adoptive parents feel like their child is somewhere without them.” Jess Vogel of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, a mother-of-four who is also waiting for her daughter from Ethiopia, agrees. “When I tuck my kids in at night and give them a kiss, I wonder what my child is doing, and if anyone has kissed them today, or said I love you. I am reminded of all of the little things, likes coughs and colds, ear infections, scraped knees, fevers, bad dreams, and I worry about how my child is doing, and if they’re scared or lonely. It’s hard not to.”
Not all people have had such real-life reminders. Tucking a child in, reading him a story, or kissing him good night are things that many people have only experienced in their imaginations. LieberWilkins says that for these people, once that match is made, the wait may be a bit easier because something is happening, and with a picture in hand, they can now start to visualize these loving events occurring in their own lives. The match can engender a hope that had, until now, been too tenuous to hold onto.
“The wait before and after was filled with elation, uncertainty, anxiety, guilt, and fear,” says Nancy Meyer, of Evanston, Illinois, who is finally home with her three-year-old daughter Makena from Ethiopia. “But through it all there were lessons, and there was hope. Hope was a constant companion, and one so alive that it worked like a mediator bringing a daughter and a mother together. And once we met, all the time in between was vapor. All the panic in the wake of waiting—it completely dissolved.”
Training for a marathon, wrestling with ethics, reading about attachment, visualizing a child in your arms, or even inducing lactation are all ways to cope with the wait during the adoption process. In what I hope is my home stretch, I’d like to tell you that I am lacing up my running shoes while loading the pod cast, “Parenting with Love and Logic” (in Amharic) onto my iPod. The truth is I’ve got a hot date with YouTube and a family-sized pack of Twizzlers. Craig and Susan are about to meet their baby Dawit in Addis Ababa and I don’t want to miss one tear-soaked minute.
Julie Corby writes about her life and her adoption at http://theeyesofmyeyesareopened.blogspot.com/. She has written articles for Adoptive Families, and is a columnist at In Culture Parent. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, and her two children adopted from Ethiopia in 2009

All ready...

It's here!  The nursery furniture is not only here, but in place and ready to go!  It was an exciting day waiting for it to come, watching the delivery guys take it up the steps, waiting to hear them say it's ready... It looks great, and we can't wait to use it!  Did I mention that we found a pediatrician and have a day care center identified?  We have a pack of diapers and some onesies to get us started, too.  So, everything that's vital is ready, we just need the baby.

We went to "Coffee Talk" the other night.  That's an informal support group at a restaurant in Philly which is offered by Open Arms (our agency) about once a month.  People in all stages of the process come and hang out, get to know each other, and get to talk about anything and everything related to adoption.  It's been fun getting to know some of the other families going through the process, and some of the families who've been where we are right now.  This time, there were about 20 people there, and 5 of the families had already adopted.  Three of them brought their babies (all under 20 months old).  One who didn't bring her kids had adopted three times, and one had a 6 month old at home.  One family only waited a month, and another woman and her husband are still waiting, a year later.  I hope that the beautiful crib upstairs will not still be empty next year at this time, but the reality is that it very well could be.  As hard as that is to think about, going to Coffee Talk and meeting that woman who's still waiting and still hopeful a year later brought it back to earth for us.  We don't know how or when this is going to play out.  We just have to be thankful and appreciative that it will. 

Bonding and Attachment, part 2

Well, I just typed the longest blog of my blogging career so far, only to have a computer glitch wipe it out before I could save and publish.  I'll try to re-create what I just worked so hard on... you wont know if it measures up, but I will! 
First of all, I wanted to share that we have found a pediatrician as of today!  That's a big one to cross off the TO DO list.  I interviewed him today, and I really loved the guy.  He was so laid back and easy to talk to, which was a huge plus in my book.  On top of that, he has a lot of experience with adoptive families and is aware of all of the issues that could come along with that.  He's very open, has a family centered care approach, seems very intelligent and resourceful, and really appeared to know his stuff.  For what it's worth (and I know a couple of you will appreciate this) he's a big Penn State fan!  I, personally, don't care too much about that, but I think that might elevate him in the eyes of some people in this family.  He has an autographed football in his office.  He gave me some good advice for the first week of the baby's life, and he seemed genuinely excited for us. 
Anyway, the class we took the other night was so good and so packed with valuable information, there was no way that was going in one blog post.  So, here we are for part two.  Most of you likely know that our agency only works within NJ and PA.  That means our baby will come from one of those states.  Adoptive families are required to remain in the state of the baby's birth for 7-10 business days after taking custody of the baby for legal purposes.  Some papers somewhere are being shuffled around someone's desk, and ultimately signed.  If the baby is born in PA, regardless of where in PA, we can come right home.  If the baby is born in NJ, we will need to pack a bag and plan to stay there.  At first, I thought I  was hoping to come home.  What better place to be with our new baby then in our own home?  But, the more I've learned, the better NJ sounds.  We've been given a lot of education from our agency, as well as from books and articles we've read, and what they recommend right after getting the baby, is to cocoon for awhile.  Take time, just for us, to get to know each other, process what we've just experienced (this is sure to be one of the most profound, intense, and emotionally charged experiences of our lives to date). Tune the world out.  Ignore all responsiblities and focus on each other.  They actually recommend cocooning for at least the first week or two, and preferably up to one month.  The baby is adapting to being without his/her birth family though it's not a conscious feeling of loss or grief.  The baby is learning that we're mom and dad.  The idea behind cocooning is to fully allow the bonding and attachment process to develop.  The recommendation is to be stingy with the baby for awhile.  To be the only ones to meet the basic needs of the baby... feeding, bathing, diapering.  That way, the baby starts to realize that we are the ones who are the "safe base".  They say to do this for the first week or two, and up to a month.  This is not to say that nobody can come see the baby, or hold the baby.  It just means that we should be the primary people...and that when someone besides one of us holds the baby, that the baby should come back to us before moving on to the next person... we're the "home base".  It's a hard concept.  It's hard because not everyone is going to believe in the idea of an infant experiencing grief and loss, much like I thought at one time.  It's hard because people may believe that bonding happens naturally, much like I thought at one time.  It's hard because so many people love and care about us, and are as eager as we are to see this kid and hold him or her.  It's hard because we want to share it all with you... this new little person who will join our family, the joy and excitment of that event happening.  It's hard because we're a bit fearful of what people will think about how we're doing things.  It's hard because we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or leave the people out who've supported us the most.  But, what we've come to realize is that we haven't been steered wrong yet.  And ultimately, we want the absolute best for this child.  As strange as this whole concept may seem, it's temporary.  It's a relatively short time span we're talking about, compared to the lifetime that we'll have before us.  So, forgive us if we seem a little stingy with this baby in the beginning, and thank you for hanging in there with us.

Bonding and Attachment

We went to an excellent workshop last night though our adoption agency.  It was on Attachment and Bonding, and was presented by our social worker, Stefani, who is a wealth of information and has incredible passion for the subject.  We learned so much and we and couldn’t stop talking about it on the way home and as we fell asleep last night.   Some of the ideas are somewhat new to us, and some felt sort of like common sense.  The bottom line though, is that when a child is adopted, regardless of the age of the child, there is some serious work to do to ensure strong, positive attachments and bonding to the new parents and family.  She talked about the three main goals or principals for all caregivers in relation to new children and attachment.  The first being that we all want the very best for our children, regardless of how they came to be a part of our family.  Second, the first moments, days, weeks, months, and years are critical times for forming attachments.  Third, strong positive attachments set the stage for all future relationships and interactions.  So, the work that we’ll need to do to securely attach us to our new baby and our new baby to us will be vital.   I guess I never thought about bonding with a child to be “work”.  In my job, I’m forming relationships with kids all of the time.  Granted, the attachments I have to the kids I care for is very different and can’t even compare to the attachment between parent and child, but I guess I assumed that you get a newborn, and you just naturally bond.  Why wouldn’t you, after all?  Babies are cute and sweet and relatively unaware of their surroundings as long as their basic needs are being met, right?  Wrong.  This post is going to either be really long, or a multi-chapter post, so I apologize right now for that.  I just feel like I want to share all we learned. It’s intriguing to me, and it’ll probably affect each of you as you’re a part of our life, and will ultimately be a part of the baby’s life.

I’ve worked with families around issues of grief and loss for many, many years now.  I know what it’s like to sit with a parent or a sibling who’s grieving the loss of a child.  I know what it’s like to sit with a child who’s grieving for their health, or their hair that’s fallen out, or a leg that’s been amputated.  I know what it’s like to attend a funeral.  I’ve done that way too many times.  But, what about a newborn who’s experiencing grief and loss?  I have never, not once, thought about a newborn baby being able to feel emotions such as grief and loss.  I know all about how babies can pick up on the emotions of their caregivers.  I know that they experience physical pain.  But, until last night, I did not think that a baby could really grieve.  Apparently, they do.  It makes sense when you think about it.   As we discussed last night, the physiological as well as psychological bond between mother and child is happening while the child is in utero. They’ve got 9 months to bond and attach to each other.  We’ve all heard of studies that show that newborns recognize their parents voices and can recognize their scent and their face only moments after birth.  Right?  How many people read to their babies while they’re still in the womb?  Why?  Because we know that the baby can hear us, and we know that they’ll have a sense of recognition when they’re born.  We play music to our bellies during pregnancy, and the baby calms to that same music after they’re born.  They recognize it.  So, what happens when we take away those things?  We take away the voices, the scents, the sounds that are recognizable and calming to a newborn.  The baby grieves.  Because they can’t tell us how they feel in words, we don’t take the time to recognize or acknowledge this emotion in a newborn, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.  Our job, as adoptive parents, will be to help ease those feelings of grief and loss, to acknowledge that they exist and work extra hard to help the baby form a safe and secure attachment to us.  I think this whole concept is a little hard to swallow, and I now feel the need to do some extra research on it, but I think overall, it makes sense to me.  It’ll just take some time to absorb all we learned and begin to incorporate it into the way we think and the way we act on a daily basis, especially once the baby arrives.  We’re ready for the challenge.  We welcome it.  We are more anxious for this to happen than we have ever been for anything else in our  entire lives.