back to the beginning...

Clearly I suck at keeping promises.

Anyway.

Baby S is now 11 months. Hard to believe that so much time has passed already. She has changed so much over the past year and so has our family life.

But here is some of the nitty gritty...

Shortly after her arrival what I found most difficult is the way a parent with a new baby "chooses sides" so to speak with multiple kids. I had watched many a friend deal with their first born child in frustration, anger, tears, etc. once the second babe arrived. All a normal reaction considering the extreme lack of sleep and helpless nature of the baby versus toddler.

When we were an only child family, I remember being witness to events such as the above and thanking the Lord that we wouldn't have to walk those steps. T's entry into our lives was so significant on so many levels and I had fallen into such a deep love for him that I didn't want to experience the extra frustration and anxiety directed at him due to a new baby in the house. There were plenty of reasons just due to his toddlerhood to be frustrated with him and a baby would only add another layer.

When baby S arrived, T was 2 1/2 years old and ripe with 3 year old behaviour. All in all, he adjusted to her presence fairly well, it was his just being almost 3 that was the difficulty. Over spring, summer, and fall we experienced daily tantrums and all the other typical what-alien-invaded-you behaviour that the age of 3 brings. It was not a pretty sight.

I battled with my emotions while being in a sleep deprived state, never sure what to do with him, and usually reacting on the fly which meant mostly anger directed at T. I was frustrated with this helpless baby and how her arrival caused me to be so emotionally charged with my first child. My anger had to come out somehow and I had enough wits about me to not direct it at S, so T became the logical answer. Plus, what was causing me frustration was him just being him. I felt guilty because T was the one that I knew and had loved for over 2 years yet he was the one experiencing my poor parenting. I felt that without a new baby I would have been able to develop more sound strategies to deal with his charged behaviour and help him through it. But I did none of that. Instead I ranted and raved while he did the same. We were a mess.

I had become an angry person. And I hurt because I was angry at this little boy who held such a strong hold on my heart.

I'm thankful for the fact that the weather was nice and I have a great hubby who took our son outside to the park daily while I stayed inside breastfeeding....and breastfeeding. I was also able to retain childcare for T two days a week for the first 5 months which was a huge lifesaver. And I am here to say, 11 months later, that life with two kids does get better. 

But that was hard.

I find that most moms don't talk about these sort of difficulties. I witnessed them as an outsider, so I know they exist, but no one really articulates the experience. People do talk about how hard it is with two kids but then usually quickly turn to rainbows and butterflies about giving the first a sibling.

I honestly get why some people choose to have an only child. For me this was part of the choice. It is hard to look at the child you have longed years to hold, only to and yell and shout at him as he demonstrates over and over why the age of 3 sucks.

Someday. When he is old enough to fully understand, I will apologize to him for this year. (I do tell him sorry when over-reacting etc. but what I mean here is a deeper understanding of sorry). I will look into those stunning brown eyes and apologize for how I wasn't able to keep it together and use this experience as a life lesson for both of us.

blogging about blogging

Sigh.

This motherhood thing is hard. It's especially become harder after the addition of baby S. 

I want to be a good blogger. Really. But where is the time?

I love this comment...

Anonymous said...
don't stop. Please? We want to hear how T is doing as a big brother, how baby S is doing...how y'all are adjusting to a family of four...the beautiful, the messy, the ugly, the sacred. Please, let us know?

I do want to share. I have many posts running through my head but to get them out is another story! My brain has been abducted by two wee ones...

I know blog posts about blogging are so wrong but even just posting about posting will hopefully inspire me to get back into it. I know there are readers out there. Many readers who do not comment....and some who do.

So here I go.

A promise.

To rewind and blog about life after baby S arrived and all the chaos that ensued.

365 days

This was the week. One year ago I found out I was pregnant.

The year has been filled with many emotions. Actually I've likely felt all emotions possible. It's been interesting pondering the past year while looking at the beautiful little lady who entered my life four months ago.

I will not deny what the past has meant and how it has played a role in my present state of mind. I will never sugar coat what I felt one year ago and the process I went through. That was real.

However. Life has clearly moved on and baby S has arrived. I'm now knee deep in diapers, breastfeeding, and spit-up. Not to mention the daily discipline my almost three year old requires. Most days I'm just managing to survive and little time is spent pondering the past or even the future. These days we're mostly living in the present.

So 365 days later, there are a few things I know for sure. Baby S has captured my heart and soul...the road to get here was not easy...but it has refined and deepened my character and that should serve me well.

belly pictures

I'm aware that there are certain things that many women do to acknowledge pregnancy. Especially a first pregnancy.

Some keep the pee stick. Others take belly shots monthly. Some write letters to their unborn child. And many frame ultrasound pictures.

My pee stick went in the trash. No monthly pictures happening over here. No letter writing. And ultrasound pics are somewhere deep in a drawer.

That said. I still am aware enough to know that in the future I will likely want to have certain things in my possession for this new baby. The most important pregnancy remembrance I desired were some tasteful and relaxed pictures of me and this belly.

No naked belly shots. No pictures of D with his arms around me. No hands on belly. And for sure no heart shaped fingers surrounding my belly button.

Please hear me when I say that there is nothing wrong with those pictures. They just aren't me.

I wanted pictures taken of me in a relaxed state...as if I was having coffee with a friend and the images captured my part of the story. 

And that is exactly what I got. 

I have an amazingly talented and creative friend who understood the sort of pictures I wanted and actually would have been less then thrilled had I bared my belly. She captured me. A me that happened to be 6 months pregnant.

Thank you my dear friend for beautiful images that one day will be shared with my daughter. And thank you for a lovely afternoon that was just as much about our friendship as it was about me.

to celebrate pregnancy

The idea of what it means to celebrate pregnancy is a value. All who do become pregnant will experience this in different ways.

I come into this pregnancy with certain life circumstance that many pregnant women will never experience. I have a history of infertility. Never even once considered assisted reproductive technology. A history with adoption. And I was never pregnant (until now of course)...so no miscarriages etc.

Beyond what the end result of being pregnant was, I did not feel this great need to be pregnant. I did not feel less of a woman by not experiencing this rite of passage. I had difficulty dealing with those who were pregnant around me because I wanted what they would have at the end of 9 months. I seriously just wanted to be a mom.

I have also worked with pregnant women and babies for most of my career. I have seen and chatted with more pregnant women then I could ever begin to count. And I have held babies over and over again. To see a pregnant woman and baby at this point in my life are very common place. I don't gush over the bellies or babies. They just are what they are.

Also, the lack of high fives and ooing/awing over the belly is just who I am. I have never -- even before we started trying to conceive -- wanted to touch bellies or know all the intimate details about being pregnant. I have been genuinely interested in my friends and their pregnancies but still don't need to spend gobs of time on the topic. And never would I initiate a conversation with a stranger and their belly, unless we were already engaged in conversation and I felt it was appropriate.

I also approach this pregnancy as someone who spoke with a pregnant woman two years ago about potentially parenting her child, and then watched that same woman place her baby in my arms. I think about her pregnancy experience and that perhaps it was not one to celebrate. I think about her in the grocery store with her older daughter and a swollen belly and wonder what strangers may have said to her.

And I do think there is something different about a stranger making a curious comment about a due date when appropriate versus an acquaintance or friend saying "I thought you couldn't get pregnant" or making other assumptions without truly listening to what is felt by the woman at the time.

People worry that I'm missing out on some sort of feeling or experience during this pregnancy...something that they themselves may have felt during pregnancy. Again, what a pregnancy celebration means and looks like is a value. I don't need others to put their values about pregnancy on me. I am truly not concerned about my lack of celebration. I have yet to move into full acceptance of this pregnancy and the end result. Most of the time I still can't believe that I'm pregnant in the first place, and I know enough about myself to know that belief and acceptance will only come after birth. Once there really is a baby to care for and to love on. I am not concerned or worried that bonding and attachment won't happen. I'm just not sure how it will happen, and this again is different for every woman, no matter her pregnancy experience.

If those around me want to celebrate my pregnancy, go for it. Just don't try to make me feel like I have to follow suit or feel what they felt during the same experience.

In this blog space I am being completely honest about my emotions and process. And this may make people uncomfortable. I could perhaps ignore my own feelings and appear as though pregnancy and another child is now the best possible thing to happen to me and I wouldn't want it any other way. That may make those around me more comfortable, but I do know that I would be worse off for not feeling what I feel and being honest about the process.

After my father passed away and people didn't know what to say to me, I ended up saying things to help make them feel better and take them off the hook per say. Those moments were hard for me. I was in the depths of despair but took energy away from processing this loss in my life by caring for others. I'm certainly all for being a caring person -- and those who know me well know that I am not coldhearted -- but I was struggling with life and grieving and needed support. I didn't need full understanding because I am very aware that unless one has walked the road of similar grief it's difficult to empathize, but to just listen to my hurting heart and to be okay with where I was in that moment.

And today at 7 months pregnant I am okay with where I'm at. Contrary to popular belief, I do not sit around and constantly bemoan this pregnancy. At the same time I am still very real and authentic with where I'm at in this journey. I have done as much work processing my new life path as I can do right now. The next part which includes full acceptance and moving forward with love and joy will occur after birth. And I know the rest of my processing time will not happen immediately.

In the meantime, the words I write on this blog are but a glimpse into my current life state. It is mostly the hard stuff I've been thinking about that I write here. I don't write about preparing the baby room, or buying all the cute tiny pink clothes, or watching T hear the heartbeat. All these things are a part of my life as well, I just don't "celebrate" them in the same way as another pregnant woman would.

all you needed was...

To relax.

To adopt.

To be happy.

To wait for the right timing.

Then...and only then...

Would you become pregnant.

And have one of your OWN.

Do people really believe this stuff? From the related comments I get, I would think so.

I've become one of the few. One of the ~ 3% of women who are infertile, who then form a family through adoption, and then get pregnant. A statistic.

Everyone has a similar story. Everyone apparently knows someone who has adopted and then become pregnant. At least that is what it feels like to me because I hear all those stories.

Here's the newsflash -- what you don't hear are all the stories of women who adopt a child and do not become pregnant. There are many of them.

What people don't realize, is that by telling me that all I needed to do to get pregnant was to adopt a child, they have completely invalidated my experience with infertility and the adoption journey...as well as the beautiful child in my life. It is the pregnancy that is celebrated above all else. The "normal" and "regular" way to have a family. It's almost like people are inferring why did I bother forming a family through adoption if I was going to get pregnant years later anyway? I guess my 8 year ago self didn't have that sort of insight.

It is also difficult for people to understand that after walking the road of infertility and adoption, not everyone needs that pregnancy experience to feel complete. I had resolved that desire years and years ago.

And nothing hurts more then people telling me that now I'll have one of my own. 

T is my own. Plain and simple.

So if you know me, and you know other women struggling with infertility or in the adoption process, please don't use me as a statistic. My story is still my own to shape and mold and the other women don't really want to hear it.

paradigm shift

The day had come. I could no longer fit into my pants and the hair elastic I was using to keep them from falling down just wasn't cutting it.

It was time to go shopping for maternity clothes.

So one Saturday afternoon I pulled myself together and went to the mall. First I grabbed a Boo.ster Juice, then went in to Chap.ter's to check the sale rack, headed to a few kids clothing stores to check out the new stock, and perused the shoe stores. I was stalling.

I finally dragged myself to the prominent maternity store in the mall and started looking. I was immediately approached my a sales clerk who ended up being a huge help. I think I must have tried on at least 12 pairs of jeans that day. I purchased a few sweaters and a really nice pair of jeans and left. All the while with an odd unexplainable feeling in my gut.

It was later as I replayed that day over in my mind that I realized part of why it was difficult for me to even walk into the store. This was a paradigm shift for me. An identity crises of sorts.

So many years ago I would have loved the opportunity to shop for maternity clothes. So many years ago I longed for that experience as then I would have what I most desired...a child. But I am not the same person I was all those years ago. Much has happened since then.

While going through infertility and the adoption process, the maternity stores and most everything else pregnancy/baby related became something very negative. Something to remind me (mock me) of what I didn't know if I would ever have. It wasn't the pregnancy piece that I so desired, it was a baby. And since pregnancy was the conduit to a baby, all things pregnancy related became bad news. This was my reality and my life. I was not going to get pregnant which was totally fine with me, what was not fine, was not having a family.

The day that I walked into the maternity store was the day I realized that I was now a part of a club that I had struggled with for so many years. A club all about "the labour story", the relatively "easy" way to have a family...and the more accepted, "real" way to bring a child into your home. I had reconciled in myself so many years ago that I would never be a part of that club. And as the adoption proceeded, and now that T is home, it's a club that I didn't need or want any longer. My family came together in an unconventional way and we continue to live an unconventional life as a transracial family. This is who I was and who I understood. I don't understand pregnancy and the "regular" way to have a child.

As a pregnant woman, I am now that woman. The one I would avoid. The one I envied. 

A few months ago I had a conversation with a woman going through infertility and she asked me how I dealt with everyone around me being pregnant. I chatted honestly with her about my story. Inside my heart hurt. I knew that sooner rather than later I would need to disclose to her that I had become that woman to deal with. I felt like a traitor.

I know that the difference between myself and the regular pregnant woman, is that I own the story of infertility and adoption. Becoming pregnant does not erase that experience. I'm just struggling with how to understand and fit into my new reality.

prime

Gravida/para/abortus (GPA), or sometimes just gravida/para (GP), is a shorthand medical notation for a woman's obstetric history.

• Gravida indicates the number of times the woman has been pregnant, regardless of whether these pregnancies were carried to term. A current pregnancy, if any, is included in this count.
• Para indicates the number of viable (>20 wks) births. Pregnancies consisting of multiples, such as twins or triplets, count as one birth for the purpose of this notation.
• Abortus is the number of pregnancies that were lost for any reason, including induced abortions or miscarriages. The abortus term is sometimes dropped when no pregnancies have been lost.

Another medical term often used to describe a first pregnancy is Prime.

I am considered Prime.

Within the Gravida/Para notation there is no designation for adopted children, so there is no way of new medical personnel that I come across to know that I am not a first time mom.

Because I was in the process of receiving vaccinations for my anticipated trip to Africa, and because I can never ever remember when my last period was (spent way too many years keeping track), I have seen many medical personnel related to this pregnancy.

Each time I walk into a new medical office I am greeted with the words, "Oh, this is your first baby!", to which I reply every time, "No, I have a 2 year old son at home through adoption." (I can't just say I have a 2 year old at home given the many different ways families are blended today). Because adoption usually follows an experience with infertility, the usual response from medical staff is "You must be SO excited about being pregnant!!"

The Gravida/Para designation indicates that I have never been pregnant and this will be my first birth experience which is important for all medical staff to know. I get that.

But every time I need to distinguish the way my son entered my family and hear the overflowing joy related to pregnancy, a joy that many did not express after hearing the news we were adopting, I am reminded that much of the world thinks that adoption is second best and that pregnancy is worth celebrating.

rewind three months...

Three months ago life could not have seemed to get any better. We were in the middle of the best summer, weather wise, in years, T was on his way to turning the big 2 and loving life, D was investigating a new job potential that would be great for him and our family, and I was secure in my role as mommy and loving every minute of my job.

There was no talk about having more kids. We had that talk eons ago. Another adoption was out of the question due to finances and we had no desire to pursue further infertility treatments. We were done. 

When D and I got married 15 years (!) ago we had talked about what we dreamed for our family. I had always wanted two kids and D wanted three. Fast forward to infertility and an extremely difficult adoption experience and our expectations for life and family completely changed. 

When I was at my lowest during the adoption I was completely convinced that I would never become a mother. Then after T came into my life my heart became full in a way that I had never experienced before. I didn't feel any desire or need to have more children in my family. I was now a mom to an amazing little boy and didn't need any more than that. T entering my life was such a significant experience that I didn't want to share that love and joy with another child.

People have often asked me if we were going to have more kids or start the adoption process again and my answer was always, "nope, my heart is full." There is complete truth in that statement. Every part of me was okay being a family of three and actually loving it. Having only one child has quite a few benefits -- it's easier to find babysitting, he's outnumbered, both D and I still have a sense of independence and are able to find time for ourselves, it's less financially straining, we're able to plan trips and outings easily, and we still participate in all the joys that parenthood provides.

Now fast forward three months and life is nothing like I thought it would be. I am 16 weeks pregnant and in the process of grieving what I was planning for my future.

In the end getting pregnant is really our own fault. I know about all the birth control options...we talk about them at every Healthy Baby group a nurse and I facilitate. But when you've never been pregnant, birth control really seems like a silly thing to think about. We were planning to make our family of three a for-sure permanent thing. D had already been to the pre-appointment for a vasectomy and just needed to book that actual appointment. 

And then life took a twisted turn...

the big reveal

Never...ever...did I think I would need to tell the world that I am pregnant.

This was very (very very) unexpected news and very unplanned. D was about a month away from a vasectomy. A vasectomy that we have talked about for the past year.

Needless to say, I am shocked and in a very different place than I was 5 years ago when I hoped to see two pink lines on a pregnancy test. 

My journey into motherhood continues.

i'm back

I took a long break. I didn't have much to say....just trying to stay afloat with my two year old!

I now have something to talk about, so it's back to blogging for me.

I know I've lost my readers but that's okay with me. This place is a venue for me to get out my emotions on all things motherhood related, and a place for me to process what's happening in life. Essentially this space is for me. If others happen to stumble this way and glean from my process then that's bonus.

So stay tuned.....I have an announcement to make....and it's not what you're thinking...

confession friday

I confess that I stole this idea from other bloggers who are doing it.

I confess that today is my 36th birthday...inching closer to 40 and my anticipated trip to New York.

I confess that my heart hurts today for a friend going through a very tough adoption situation that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy.

I confess that I used to think Facebook was dumb...and now I don't.

I confess that I love getting acupuncture.

I confess that knowing J has put a hold on her file has resulted in procrastination...I am very behind in sending letters to her.

I confess that I love to shop for T's wardrobe...and that he has quite an extensive line-up of clothing.

I confess that it's still sometimes strange to think of myself as a mom.

I confess that I've been watching "the big bang theory" which I think is a super dumb show.

I confess that I get overwhelmed thinking about trying to be a good transracial adoptive mom.

I confess that T finally found his appetite which makes me do the dance of joy.

I confess that I currently have 600 emails in my inbox.

I confess that I love T more than words can describe.

I confess that life is good.

gratitude

A good friend of mine took family photos of us shortly after T turned one year old. It was mid-September and the day was gorgeous. I know my friend is a good photographer (she took T's baby pictures as well) so I was expecting some great photos.

But what she showed me blew me away. They are stunning.

I have watched the slideshow of all our pictures countless times and each time I am struck with feelings of privilege, gratitude, and blessing. I've been thinking about all of this for at least a week and still have a hard time even articulating what it is that I feel to myself, but I'm going to give it a try.

I sometimes wonder if, as an adoptive mom, my experience and feelings of motherhood basics are somewhat different from a biological mom. I know that at times I definitely have a different perspective on motherhood -- waiting and working so hard to become something that many take forgranted will do that. But what I am referring to here is different.

I feel an intense sense of privilege at having been given the opportunity to parent this remarkable little boy. And in this context I am referring to privilege as an honor and pleasure. As I look at our family photos I wonder how it is that I am so fortunate to be allowed to watch T grow up and develop. I am still struck by the fact that I am his mom and have the potential to greatly impact his life.

The key concept here is opportunity. Having a family wasn't assumed or a given. Entering motherhood via adoption brings with it a sense of awe. We were chosen. A stranger decided that we would parent their child. An amazing set of circumstances made becoming a mom possible.

There is a depth and richness to what I am feeling that I'm not sure I can ever fully explain. I am so incredibly grateful for T's presence in my life. After experiencing 18 months of loss, the joy motherhood has granted me is indescribable.

The photos tell part of our story. And to me it's a beautiful moment. A moment of privilege, blessing, and gratitude.

And to my photographer friend (you know who you are!)...I am also grateful for you and your willingness to share your time and talent. Thank you.

I will post a few of my favourite photos on T's private blog. If you want access, leave a comment or send me an email, letting me know who you are.

absenteeism

I have been absent from the blogging world. Not only is this the longest time I have gone without posting, I am also hopelessly behind in blog reading.

Life has been busy. I went back to work on October 4th.

Balance is now the name of the game. Finding the time to clean, cook, play, and rest. Thank goodness I am only working part-time.

As October loomed I was asked many times how I was feeling going back to work after being home with T. It was a hard question to answer without having experienced what it looks and feels like to work outside the home after becoming a mom. I can now say with confidence that I absolutely love being back at work. From day one it just felt right. I love my job and I love my co-workers. And I love the small break from diapers, naps, and snacks.

Baby T's experience of me going back to work has been less than stellar. He is in a home daycare located just two doors down from us on the same street (how convenient!). Day one at daycare was great. Day two and onward has resulted in hours and hours of wailing and screaming. Our little one is quite persistent. One day, he was so exhausted from crying he fell asleep in the middle of the floor with all the other kids playing around him. Poor baby!

This week he did a bit better. And I know that every week will continue to improve. T's separation anxiety is completely normal, and in a small way it's sort of nice to know that I am missed and am important.

And even though dropping him off tugs at the heartstrings, especially when he cries the silent cry, I still love being back at work. I know he's in good hands and I know that in the end spending some time outside the house will be best for both him and me.

Now that I have a month of this "working mom" thing under my belt, I hope to do a better job of regularly showing up in the blogging world.

thoughts about The Wait from a distance

A friend of mine is waiting.

Waiting for a referral to adopt a child from Ethiopia.

She has been waiting for a very long time.

When I chat with her about waiting and how this has impacted her family life I think about my own waiting time. I actually feel anxious and my blood pressure rises as I immerse myself in her experience during our coffee dates. During those times I need to remember to separate my reality from hers. It hasn't been that long. She is waiting. I am not.

It has been 8 1/2 months since baby T entered our lives and closed the waiting chapter of our journey into parenthood. But I can still quite vividly remember how difficult The Wait was. While I am head over heels in love with T, he doesn't erase that experience. Fellow adoptive parents have mentioned that the waiting and paperwork seems like nothing once you are holding a child. I disagree. That time in my life changed me as a person and the experience will forever impact how I look at building a family. Infertility, the adoption process, and the waiting will always color my vision.

This waiting is one of the reasons that I think we will be a family of three now and forever. There are other reasons for this, which might make it into a post someday, but at this moment I can not imagine ever beginning The Wait again. Even though it would be different because we have a child, I know I would constantly be distracted. Instead I want to enjoy the life that I have as mother to an amazing little boy. To wonder and anticipate and expect is something that I don't desire to do again. Our wait was riddled with hardships and roadblocks, it was not a wait of ease that some (very few) adoptive parents experience.

So to my friend (I know you're reading this!) I hurt for you during your wait. Thank you for the privilege to walk some of this journey with you. And I too will celebrate (wine and chocolate night?) when the waiting is finally over for you too.

Then I think we both may need therapy to help us work through The Wait and all the nastiness it left behind!

my first mother's day

Firstly, I need to acknowledge the hallmark holiday that Mother's Day is. As well as the fact that this is a hard day for many women. I won't sugar coat it. It's a hard day. I know. I've been there.

I also think about J on this day. I don't have any words to express how difficult this day may be for her. "Birthmother" Day is apparently the day before Mother's Day. I wonder why there is a separate day...and who decided this? How is it that a first mom isn't also acknowledged on Mother's Day...after all she IS a mother.

That said, I embraced my very first Mother's Day.

It was delightful.

D got up with baby T so I would be able to sleep in. Of course I didn't, I heard T as well. But lying in bed for an extra 1/2 hour and knowing that I didn't have to get up was lovely. Then D make me belgium waffles with strawberries and vanilla sauce for breakfast...yum!

After breakfast, and a stint outside so D could organize the house, I took part in a treasure hunt which ended with my gift. D did such a great job with clues, some of them were really tricky! My Mother's Day present was this lovely custom necklace. Good on D to remember all my hints after initially seeing this jewelery well before I became a mother!

Then D stayed at home with T while I went out for lunch with my sister (her hubbie also at home with the kids). After enjoying a yummy meal we were treated to a manicure and pedicure. My Mother's Day adventure ended with dessert....a deep-fried mars bar! Oh so good!

What a lovely day.

Now the pressure is on to plan an excellent Father's Day!

honey...i went shopping for the kid

Blast those baby stores with all of their cute, fun, trendy, baby clothes!

Every time I walk into above said stores I experience great internal conflict. Due to the always rising cost of adoption services we are financially in quite a different place than we were one year ago. This is from which most of my struggle stems from.

Let me set the stage. Not only did we receive baby clothes as gifts, we have been given some second hand baby clothes which is so generous. Baby T certainly has enough clothes to get him through the summer, especially if we do a couple loads of laundry weekly.

The dilemma. I am finally in a place where I can look at and purchase baby clothes for MY BABY. Not someone else's. No longer do I feel that heart-hurting, longing feeling when passing a kids clothing store. I now get to go in the store and look at clothes for a REAL baby that is my own. I love that we have such generous friends and family and am so thankful for the clothes (and toys). Yet, I too want to pick out and buy new clothes for my child, not only use hand me downs. I want to choose some of the super cute outfits from Gymboree for T and not only use clothing from Old Navy.

But this is not very fiscally responsible of me.

Then I think about how T will likely be my only child. Why am I spending money on clothing that will never be used in my house again? But one could also argue that because he could be my only child this would be the one and only time I get to look at, oogle over, awww about, and purchase wee little clothes. Buying clothes for a 3 year old doesn't sound nearly as much fun.

Therein lies my internal conflict.

Today I purchased two cute outfits from Gymboree for T (at a pretty good price). Then I did an inventory of all his summer/fall clothing (it's all lying on the living room floor at the moment!). I called a very good friend who has 3 boys (2 through adoption) to talk about realistic summer needs for a one year old and vented about my dilemma.

And tomorrow...

I am going back to Gymboree to pick up two more outfits.

turning 30 what?

Somehow it happened again. I just turned another year older. The big 3-5. This is the year after which fertility dramatically decreases and potential complications in pregnancy dramatically increase.

Is this the official end of my ticking clock?

To hell with the clock!

This year marks the beginning for me. The start of a brand new exciting chapter in life. Screw declining fertility rates and pregnancy complications...I am the mother of an exceptional little boy and this is what brings me life and joy! Although my experience of infertility and the adoption process will always color my vision, I won't look back...only forward.

I anticipate a year of healing, the rebuilding of hope, and absolute joy.

This isn't quite how I planned it but life is good and I am a yummy mummy at 35!

And onward I march towards 40 which means a birthday celebration in New York City with a dear friend of mine! Bring it on!

christmas 2009

What a difference a year makes. I know this is so cliche.

Last year in December, D and I got our first situation. What we didn't realize at the time was this would be the first of many "situations."

A "situation" is what our American agency calls it when we, along with other hopeful couples, are preliminarily matched with an expectant mom. We then wait to hear about her decision in choosing to parent or choosing a family to place her child. Sometimes we waited a day or two, but most of the time we waited for weeks.

One year ago we were naive and Innocent to this process. When we got that first call from our agency we thought this was really happening for us. I remember telling family and a few close friends with excitement. And I definitely remember what it was like to feel that Innocent joy that believes in possibility.

Last year around Christmas we found out that we would not become parents in 2008 like we had so desperately hoped. This made every family gathering and get together extremely difficult as moms, babies, and children were everywhere.

This year was different. This year I too was a mom. This year I too had responsibilities that went beyond eating too much and opening presents. It's hard to find the right words to accurately describe how this felt.

It was sweet joy.

At an extended family gathering where my aunts and uncles met baby T for the first time, I think I glowed just a bit. Maybe no one else saw it, but I felt it. D didn't get to hold T much that day, I needed to be the mom and bask in the wonderment and newness of it all.

This holiday season I caught a glimpse of the vast, unconditional love God has for me. I have fallen in love with my son and that makes for the absolute best Christmas gift.

yummy

My sister and I made these super yummy chocolate sugar cookies for a Christmas family gathering today. These are my ABC* cookie cutters that I received from a dear friend of mine.

*Already Been Chewed...