Lucky

I never thought in a million years that #1 - I'd ever be a mom (this took over 10 years to happen) or #2 - that I'd be a mom through adoption.  It's crazy.  I look at my daughter and love her like crazy.  I look at my life and wonder what paths I took to lead me to this very spot at this very moment.  It sort of makes me cry, but it mostly makes me smile in amazement.

How lucky I am to be here now with this particular little girl to call me mama, this particular man to call me his wife.  How lucky I really am.

Still waiting for finally

Over the past few weeks, I've been in a weird head space.  We're still waiting ("still" meaning a relatively short "still" ...  we've been back on the wait list since September 25th, which is only 3 months ago).  I'm ok with not having baby 2 yet, but I don't really feel ok with being on list.  It's hard.

I don't know if it would be easier if we hadn't received two calls already - both calls being situations that fell outside of our comfort levels and would have meant drastic lifestyle changes for our family.  I'm ok with the decisions we made and don't regret saying no.  But I think these two calls shook me up in a way that I wasn't really prepared for.  I now know how completely out of the blue these calls can come from - at times that I'm not mentally prepared for.  The first came as we were settling in for a Saturday afternoon nap and the second came when I was in training at work and Apollo was in a work meeting.  Our minds were on other things and we weren't expecting to be presented with cases where babies were already born and at the hospital.

Over the past couple weeks, I feel I've been bracing myself and have been on edge.  I have my phone with me at all times.  I check my call history compulsively.  My breath stops a little when I get a text message or my cell rings.  It's as though I think these behaviours are going to prepare me for what I damn well know I can't be prepared for. 

I know there are people who wait on the list for years.  We may very well be in this situation this time around.  But I wonder if I'd have an easier time with the wait if I had never received those two calls in the first place...  If I'd be more at peace and more content with waiting and living my current life.

The funny thing is - I'm perfectly happy with how things are right now and I wouldn't mind it if we didn't have another child for another year.  I'm on track for a big promotion at work after the spring.  Moonbeam is still little enough that I question whether now would be the best time for a sibling for her (waiting until she is a bit bigger definitely wouldn't hurt things).  We've got reno plans for our home this summer which I don't think we can afford if I'm not working.  Sure, I'd love a baby (of course), but I'm just saying it's not the end of the world to me if it doesn't happen right this moment.

It's not the "longing for another baby" that's eating away at me right now ...  it's the not knowing when this is going to happen that is.  It's not a new baby that I'm craving, it's this part of my life, the infertility, trying for a baby, when the hell is this going to be over thing that I really want to put an end to.  I can't wait for this part of my life to be over so we can move on as a family.

I try and remember that Moonbeam is a perfect fit for our family, that our relationship with her birth mom is exactly what we'd hoped it would be.  I hope this happens again, but this may mean it will take some time.  But still - I'm looking forward to moving on, moving past this stage of waiting and wondering.  Waiting for "still" to be over.  Waiting for "finally" to arrive.

We said no

We made a decision on the adoption situation that we were presented with this weekend.  We said no.

We came to terms with how we would handle heroin withdrawal and were committed to helping this little guy through it.  We came to terms with his birth mom being Hep C positive and how this may impact our family.  We came to terms with his birth father being a client of his birth mom's, who is a sex worker.

What we couldn't come to terms with was finding out through google that birth mom had been arrested three years ago for aggravated assault with a weapon (with the intent to stab someone) and forcible confinement (holding someone against their will/hostage or kidnapping, whatever you want to call it).  Her family had also reported her missing this September, as per one of her town's local newspapers.  This is where I drew the line.

Apollo drew the line when birth mom wouldn't admit to the social worker that she'd ever been arrested for anything other than driving without insurance.  Social worker asked her directly if there is anything she wanted to disclose regarding any prior criminal activity or history.  She said there was nothing.

So, we said no. 

We are ok.  We are so heartbroken and torn up.  But we are so relieved. 

We asked the agency not to call us with anything outside of our original parameters.  We made the decision a long time ago what we were comfortable with, and heroin addiction wasn't on there.  Moderate drug exposure (which we said we were comfortable with) does not mean baby born addicted to opiates.  Baby born with severe brain damage (as was the case with the call we got 6 weeks ago) falls into the category of severely disabled, which we specifically said no to on our checklist.

I think they understand.  It's too hard on our hearts, too hard on our family, too hard on our relationship to keep getting these calls.  They make me a shitty mom and a shitty wife.  They make me feel shitty for saying no. 

But I am ok.  I know that these women's problems are not MY problems.  It's not my responsibility to pick up the pieces of their poor judgment and solve their problems.  Parenting through adoption is hard enough as it is.  Parenting on its own is hard enough as it is.

Our hearts are healing ...  our social worker told us that this means we made the right decision for our family.

The Calls

6 weeks ago we got a call about a baby girl in NICU.  She was 2 weeks old and she'd had 2 seizures subsequent to birth and after two MRIs, the doctors diagnosed her with severe brain damage, with possible blindness and deafness in her future.  Birth mom, grandma and aunt left her at the hospital.  We said no and she went to foster care.

This afternoon we got another call.  Baby boy was born this morning at 10 am.  By 6 pm he was taken to NICU for heroin withdrawal.  Birth mom left him, promising to come back on Sunday to make an adoption plan.  She's from out of town and is clearly an addict.  Baby is alone in NICU, going through heroin withdrawal by himself.  I feel like this baby is headed to foster care too unless birth mom comes back to sign papers, which seems unlikely.

We're considering revising our desired child checklist.  Being open to anything for adoption #1 brought Moonbeam to us.  But there are clearly some really rough situations that exist.  Not sure how many more calls like this we can take.

#MicroblogMondays: Only Three Things Matter

On Display

Source

A couple of weeks ago, Apollo and I were asked if we would participate in the September seminar at our agency for prospective adoptive parents.  It was two years ago exactly that we found ourselves in the same room as these folks and in the spirit of giving back, we decided that we would go and speak as the keynote family. 

Our social worker asked if we would be ok if Aurora joined us.  We were totally fine with it, thinking it would be a good opportunity for others to see a real life open adoption triad in action. 

We were hesitant to bring Moonbeam - we are a bit uneasy with having her life on display in front of a bunch of strangers.  But the social worker insisted that we bring her, saying that it would really only hit home if the prospective parents could see the type of relationship that she has with each of the adults in the triad.

Aurora came to our house early before we were scheduled to attend.  I know that she has not really told her story to anyone, so to make sure she was going to be ok, I prompted her and had her practice her side of the story.  No one prompted me for my side of the story, which seemed fine, especially considering I'm pretty extroverted and I don't think anyone (including myself) even questioned if I'd be ok.

When we got to the seminar, we were all pretty nervous.  I was asked to start by telling how we had found ourselves in the seminar two years ago and with a surprisingly shaky voice, I started talking.  I got three sentences in and realized I was too emotional about infertility and the memories of sitting in the same room two years earlier to keep going, so I asked Apollo to take over.

I had no idea I was so shaken up by infertility and our journey to parenthood.  I normally put on such a strong front that I don't think anyone, including myself, realized that it's still a really sore spot for me.

The experience was good, I think.  Aurora was super emotional at some points, and all I wanted to do was grab a hold of her, hug her and make her pain go away.  She talked about picking a family before us - when the agency called them to tell them they'd been selected, they told the agency they were pregnant and not ready to raise two babies at the same time.  It was the first time that I realized how scared she was when she had her failed match.  I saw the impact of what she faced when she only had 3 weeks before her baby was due and how helpless and hopeless she felt when she didn't have a family to place her daughter with.

Nothing came as a surprise to any of us I don't think.  We'd heard all the parts of her story before, and she had heard all the parts of our story too.  I was thankful for that - made me realize that we've got a pretty good thing going and that we've been open and honest with each other (no matter how hard it was when it was happening) and that this has really rooted our relationship.

Something I've struggled with from the get-go is guilt and feeling responsible in the event that we in any way coerced Aurora.  Like being in the delivery room when Moonbeam was born.  Like staying with her in the hospital through the first day and night and not giving Aurora enough space to make her own decisions.  Before we went to the seminar, I had the opportunity to bring this up with Aurora and she helped put my mind at ease in so many ways - something I've craved/needed/wanted since the beginning I guess, but really could only accept as truth 18 months in.

I asked her directly if having me/us in the delivery room coerced her.  I told her I've read so much about how this is something adoptive parents shouldn't do, that this should be a time for birth mom and baby alone.  That having us there imposes our presence on her decision and doesn't let her think clearly.

She gave me the answer I needed.  She was shocked that this was something that was even debated - she told me she wanted us there and had planned on having at least me there (even though this was never fully communicated to me).  She admitted that b/c she had no one to help her through the harrowing experience of birth (and from what I can tell, it's effing scary) that she was glad we were there.

Finally.  Some validation from the only person that matters that I didn't do the wrong thing.  That she never made the decision because of me.  That she was always going to place Moonbeam, that she had not ever chosen to parent her.  That her decision was hers, not in any way a result of me.

I don't know why I needed to hear this, but I did. 

I guess I'm glad we did the seminar.  I'm not sure I'll ever do one again - it was really emotionally draining and I'm not so sure it will be good for Moonbeam as she gets older to be the centre of such an emotionally-raw situation with her at the centre of it.  She knows her story, will always know her story.  She's seen me cry and now she's seen Aurora cry.  I want her to know that this wasn't an easy decision for Aurora -  I think it's important that she know that.  But I don't know how important it is for us to tell the story and display her as part of a panel.

I also don't know how much more public exposure of my story I can take.  There was certainly nothing anonymous about the situation, nor was anything really kept that private.  All the cards were laid out for everyone to see, tears and all.  At some points some of the prospective parents were crying too, often at points that weren't trigger-points for any of us on the panel...  I wondered what I was saying that was causing hurt and pain. 

I thought I'd spend the night with a bottle of wine.  Instead I spent the night in silence on the couch processing my own thoughts and working through my emotions.  I thought I was ok, and for the most part I am.  But there's still a lot of sadness - for me, for Apollo, for Moonbeam and for Aurora.  I wonder if this ever truly goes away.

#MicroblogMondays - Understanding

Yesterday I attended a family arts festival.  Moonbeam was feeling especially sucky and for the first time in months she insisted that I carry her in the E.rgo baby.

An old woman stopped me on the street to comment on what she found to be a beautiful moment between mother and child - Moonbeam snuggling closely to my chest and me stroking her hair.

With tears in her eyes, she told me that it had not been her fate to have children - that she had suffered through three ectopic pregnancies. 

I gasped and told her that I understood and that we had adopted Moonbeam.  We grasped for each other and with little Moonbeam held between us, we hugged and cried.  The scene must have looked unusual to strangers passing by, but there was nothing but understanding between the old woman and I.

The pain of infertility never goes away; it lives in our hearts forever.

#MicroblogMondays: Confession of a Fall Lover

It snowed today.  And just on the wake of getting my new brown boots from Target, which I feel secretly stoked about.

Apollo is back at work after summer break and Moonbeam just started daycare; now I'm not the only one who has to have a plan for the day and interact with society (even when we don't want to!).  We're all playing on the same early rising, facing the world despite our desire to stay at home team.

The nights are coming earlier and it's getting nippy outside in the evenings; now I have a reason to go to bed early and not feel like I'm missing out on a warm summer night - one of the few that we get each year.

I love the change of season.  I like the order that comes with fall - a welcome change to the chaos of summer. 

One day at a time

Source

Our paperwork is all in.  We're that much closer now to being on the list and putting ourselves out there for another baby.  We still have the home study to get through, which should be easier this time around (I think it's only one afternoon this time instead of three home visits like it was the first time).

We (I) spent the past few weeks pouring over our dear birth parent letter.  The details almost felt ridiculous (What colour of background should I choose?  What font size and style?  How many pictures?  Do I look too forced happy in said pictures?  Do I talk about our open relationship with Aurora or do we leave that for when we meet?  What thickness of paper do I print the copies on?).  But, ridiculous or not, I know a lot of these things actually do matter - the first step in having an opportunity to parent a child is standing out in some way on paper and connecting with an expectant mom/family.  But the reality is that font size and parenting have absolutely nothing in common.

Our checklists, criminal record checks and medicals were a piece of cake.  We are veterans of these processes and jumped through the hoops with flying colours.  The dear birth parent letter wasn't as bad this time either, as we used the same template as our last one and we could easily talk about what we like to do as a family rather than what we hope to do as a family. 

But now that everything is out of our hands, honestly, it's hard.  There is a lot that is about to happen to us here that is completely out of my control.  I feel like I'm back in the throes of infertility and leaving so much up to the universe.  And I don't like it.

Apollo dropped off the last of our paperwork earlier this week and I think I sort of expected some type of fanfare related to this occasion.  I think I expected someone at the agency to hug him or something and tell him how excited they are for us as a family.  But when I asked him what their reaction was, he told me the only one around was the receptionist and the only thing she asked him was if he wanted to wait around while she made sure all of our documents were in order.  He didn't, so he said the whole encounter lasted a grand total of 2 minutes.

We have a lot to do before our home study is scheduled (I think we'll get the call next week sometime to schedule our home study visit in the next couple weeks, based on what happened last time).  I'm not neurotic about cleaning or anything before our social worker comes, but we do need to visually baby-proof (yes, Moonbeam is 16 months, I know I know.  Please don't judge!).  Our house is as baby proof as it needs to be for our family, but from a paperwork perspective, we know there are some things we need to take care of.

So we still have tasks to complete, which helps to alleviate the anxiety around my loss of control.  But sometimes when I stop "doing" and just start "feeling", I get a little freaked out.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about all of this.  I'm not sure how I do feel about all of this.  I've been bumbling along pretty nicely over the past year and a half as though I'm just a normal mom.  Now I'm forced to remember that I am a mom faced with infertility.  And as you know, there's nothing comforting about that thought.

I am not in the dark at all this time either about the ups and downs that are about to happen in my family.  There is the home study itself that is unnerving.  Then there's the waiting part, the uncertainty part.  Then the match part and even more uncertainty and hope, which is hard to hold on to, right?  In our world enveloped by infertility, you don't even want to dare to hope - there's too much at stake to let your heart go there.

But one day at a time I guess.  That's all I can expect of myself and all I can expect of Apollo.  And all I can expect from this process, really.  The longing part has subsided, thanks to my role as mother to Moonbeam.  I know I'm one of the lucky ones and I don't feel all tangled up with the uncertainty as to whether I'm ever going to be a mother.  I'm just tangled up with the knowledge and experience of how rough the road ahead is.  The journey is beautiful, don't get me wrong and totally worth it in the end.  But the ruts ahead are deep and there are some significant emotional obstacles that we'll be faced with, this I know. 

But, we're packing up and moving ahead.  Apollo is committed and I am too.  Part of me wants to alleviate all risk and just accept our lives as they currently are.  But I know that the risk part is only one piece of the whole process and that at the end of it all, it's amazing.  I'm just scared.

One day at a time.

A day in the life of Moonbeam

Moonbeam

Moonbeam is almost 16 months old and today, I want to dedicate some time to writing all about this special little girl I am so lucky to have as my daughter.

Today I took Moonbeam shopping - this isn't something I generally choose to do with her, as I cherish my shopping alone time and it's usually a way for me to get some "me" time without the constant demands of a little person, a husband or work.  But I have the next week off of work and I thought today would be a good day to bring her along as I shopped for a dress for a wedding we're attending tomorrow.

Before heading off, I fed Moonbeam a nice big breakfast (she's a huge eater - she honestly consumes more calories than I do in a day) so that she'd have a full tummy for the morning.  As usual, I gave her her own spoon so that she could scoop the oatmeal out of her bowl and practice eating on her own.  She is doing so good with this - and she is so proud to eat on her own using big girl utensils!

Next, I asked her if she wanted to get her hair done.  This used to be a huge battle for us, but her Nana (Apollo's mom) just finished a 2 month stay with us and she transformed Moonbeam from a total hair-rebel into LOVING getting her hair done.  When I offered to do her hair this morning, Moonbeam toddled over to the bathroom door and banged on it with her little hand; yes!  of course she wanted her hair done!  So I picked her up and sat her at the sink while she "brushed her teeth" and helped me comb her hair.  We sucessfully tied in two little pigtails and we were ready to get dressed.

Moonbeam loves clothes.  She is the girliest of girls, which is really quite funny, as this is not something that she gets from me nor did she inherit this biologically from Aurora.  It's just all her.  So when we went to her room to pick out her clothes for the day, it wasn't a surprise when she picked the sparkliest, pinkest Minnie Mouse (aka "Mimi" to Moonbeam) shirt and and matching shorts.  Once dressed from head to toe in pink, we were all set.

When I told her that we were going to go for a car ride to go shopping, she walked over to her car seat and climbed in.  She's still in an infant rear-facing seat, as she doesn't meet the weight requirement for a forward-facing seat yet (in Canada, children have to be 22 lbs and she's barely breaking 21 lbs).  We strapped her in and then she waved and said bye bye to Daddy.

Once at the mall, she was in heaven.  All the people to wave and say hi to!  The music (she dances constantly and loves top 40 type songs, despite the musical refinement we are trying to bestow on her)!  All the pretty sales ladies telling her that she's so cute (this pleases her to no end - she is such a flirt)!  And all the pretty clothes to ooohhh and aahhh at!

This happiness lasted until I had to venture into the fitting room to try on some dresses.  She really disliked having the door closed (despite having a full length mirror to flirt with herself in) and she kept pointing at the door handle and saying bye bye.  I wondered if the closed quarters and white walls were reminiscent of the doctor's office that she so dislikes being closed up in.  I picked out a dress really quickly and then we were on our way.

Next were shoes for Moonbeam.  She doesn't have any hard-soled shoes yet, as we were waiting until she was walking to get her a pair.  She and I found our way to a shoe store and she loved looking at the various sparkly and pink shoes.  I pulled her out of her little cart and asked her to try some of the shoes on.  She furiously shook her head no and hit the pair of shoes I had in my hand for her to try on.  I tried another pair.  Same reaction with more forceful hitting.  And then another pair.  An even stronger refusal.  So we gave up on shoes.

I knew we were running on borrowed time as we were encroaching on nap-time territory.  But I really wanted cute socks and shoes for her to wear to the pre-wedding party she and I are attending tonight.  So we made our way to the D.isney store - a total hit.  She loves that place ...  before I was a parent, I would shake my head when my sister insisted we take her little guy in there to buy him pj's or a toy or whatever.  Now, it really makes my day to see Moonbeam's eyes light up with so much magic and excitement.  I found her a pair of little Minnie shoes and pink frilly socks (she refused to try them on) and we were ready to go home.

As soon as we got home, I showed her the new Minnie shoes.  I expected a tantrum similar to what had escalated at the mall, but she snatched them out of my hand and with a huge grin on her face, she repeatedly exclaimed "Wowwwww!!!".  I promised her we could wear them later and then Daddy put her down for a nap.

It's crazy that my little baby is transforming into a little girl right before my eyes.  She loves Beyonce, tutus and blueberries.  She is walking all around now and refuses to hold my hand.  She plainly tells me "no" and "I don't want" and is learning to say "yes" and sign "thank you".  She knows all sorts of words (it's blowing my mind!) - bird, noisy, ball, bath, blueberry (boo ba), fish, mama and daddy, nana (her grandma), woosh for water, sshhh for soother, baby, no, duck, outside ...  and that's just off the top of my head.  She is so smart and makes me so proud with every single new thing she does.

Sometimes I can't even remember never being a mom.  Sometimes I catch myself feeling guilty for being annoyed when Moonbeam is throwing a tantrum and hitting shoes I want to buy for her.

In the first few months that Moonbeam became my daughter, sometimes I would forget that I actually was a mom, like when I was shopping in a kids' store and would think "When I have a kid, I'll buy her that!" and then suddenly realizing I had a 3 month old baby at home with her daddy.  Ten years of infertility and disappointment wears a person down - I think I seriously doubted that I would ever really be a mother.  Luckily, the sadness of infertility has worn off and I truly celebrate this wonderful opportunity life has granted me.  I love being a mom; I used to wonder if it was an overrated title, but for me, it really is all I ever wanted to become ...  and everything about the role lives up to my expectations.

And here I am with a TODDLER - not a baby anymore (although anytime I point to a baby, Moonbeam pats herself on the chest and says "baby").  I love this kid more than life itself and I love seeing who she is becoming, shoe tantrums and all.

Back in the saddle

Source

So, we're doing it again.  The checklists are filled out, the medical is done, the security clearances are in the works...  Yep, we're on the road to adopting another child.

It took us a long time to come this decision.  Moonbeam is almost 16 months now and it's something we've been tossing around honestly since she was born.  There is so much to consider when adopting a second child ...  I feel like it just can't feel the same as I think it would if we were fertile and just decided that having a second baby would be nice - rolling around in the hay a bit and 2 weeks later being preggers.

Adopting a second child just feels weightier. 

We lucked out big time on the adoption front in so many ways with Moonbeam.  We essentially had no wait, we connected with Aurora right off the get go, there were no legal risks or even inklings that Aurora was ever going to change her mind, we were at Moonbeam's birth and we have continued to have a very open relationship with Aurora since we first met her.  For our family, although the relationship and situation have not been without their growing pains, our open adoption has worked out perfectly.

Now with a second child, it feels like there are so many factors to consider.  Now it's not just Apollo and I we're concerned about - it's the well-being of Moonbeam, baby-to-be, even Aurora and future birth families to consider. 

For baby #2, we had to think really, really hard as to what we were open to this time as we filled out our 50+ pages of checklists.  And what it came down to is that we're open to the exact same things that we were open to on the first go around.

Because here's the thing.  Papers are just that - papers.  The check boxes are what get your profile shown or held back when expectant families approach the agency looking to place their children for adoption.  On paper, when you're going through the boxes and you look at everything in aggregate, it seems terrifying.  But isolate any one of the factors and you've likely got a manageable situation. 

So once again, we're wide open to what life is ready to throw at us.  It's kind of scary.  It's kind of exciting.  I'm trying not to think about it too much, really. 

I'm scared about not loving this child as much as I love Moonbeam (because Moonbeam is my absolute everything - is it possible to love another human being THIS MUCH???). 

I'm scared about Moonbeam feeling rejected and not getting all the love and nurturing she deserves - but when it comes down to it, I'm more scared about the little demon we're creating as an only child (her new favourite words are "I don't want" ...  like what???  She's freaking 16 months.  Oh boy.).

I'm scared about how this will play out between Apollo and I - we're already at times scrabbling to keep our own relationship happy and healthy without adding the strain of a second child into the mix.

I'm scared about what sort of relationship will manifest itself with a new birthfamily and how this will impact both of our children.

But I'm excited too.  I'm excited to have another baby in our lives!  To see Moonbeam as a big sister, to grow our family, to experience parenthood all over again with Apollo, to get to know a new little person and share our lives with him/her.

We've still got some finishing touches to add to our dear birth parent letter and we've got one set of security clearances yet to come back.  Then that's it for our final submission for baby #2 - which will then get our home study rolling.  We've been taking our time with the paperwork over the past month, but now there's very little standing in the way between becoming expectant/waiting parents!

So lots going on here - we're excited, we're scared, we're blissfully pretending our lives aren't about to drastically change once again.  Heading into the adoption scene a second time is way less excruciating this time around.  The first time we wanted nothing more than a quick, easy placement.  This time we're much more relaxed about timing ...  in some ways, it would be nice to have some breathing room between babies.  But we'll see what's in the cards for us.  With adoption, you have to leave a lot up to fate and, shall I even dare say it?  Destiny.  The baby that is meant to be our child will come when it's time.

How to Respond?

Source

It's been a big month for us - lots of changes (all good) and plans for moving ahead with various things in life (family planning - more to come on this, jobs, house projects ...  and Moonbeam is WALKING!!! eek!).  I've had little time for just myself and even littler time to write.  But this month I'm participating in ICLW, which I know will be good - it'll force me to carve some time out for myself, to reflect and to write.

Something I've been struggling with lately is exactly how I should be handling other people's random comments about building and being a family through open adoption.

Scenario #1:
It started off a couple months ago when I returned to work.  People had plenty of questions and opinions about my take on openness in adoption.  I took all of this with a grain of salt and took people's comments as mostly well-intentioned and founded in curiosity rather than judgment.  Then after a few months of being back, I off-handedly remarked to one of my female colleagues that Moonbeam was starting to hit (this happened around 12 months or so).  She mentioned that her 2 boys never hit anyone as toddlers (which I now know has to be a total lie, after my countless interviews with other toddler moms).  She went on to explain that the lack of hitting resulted from the genetic link between her and her children.

I was shocked and hurt, but chalked it up to clumsiness and didn't think (too) much about it again.

Then a couple weeks ago, this same co-worker hosted a birthday lunch for me at a restaurant with a group of my colleagues.  We were all chatting about children, and I piped up asking the other parents if, with their second child, they were worried they wouldn't have the same feelings towards them as their first child.

The same co-worker piped up (in front of everyone) that no, she didn't feel any different towards her second child, but that for her this was obviously a biological thing and that she didn't know how it would be for me. 

Again, I was shocked and hurt...  and tongue tied.  I didn't know how to respond and so I didn't.  I just sat there awkwardly until another co-worker piped up that he too had felt the same concern for his second child but that he ended up bonding with that child the same as the first.

Scenario #2:
I was talking to my mother in law a couple weeks ago and she brought up a recent conversation she had with a long-time acquaintance of hers.  It turns out that this acquaintance has two children through adoption.  My mother in law proceeded to tell my the horror story that was acquaintance's first match, which ultimately resulted in a relinquishment after the baby was placed with her.  My response to my mother in law was polite at first until she started into the heart-wrenching details of the failed match.  I stopped her mid-sentence and told her I didn't want to hear anymore ...  and explained to her that what she was doing was explaining a baby-loss story to me, in graphic detail...  I turned the story on its head and told her that it was similar to me being pregnant and then her telling me graphic detalis about an ugly miscarriage or stillbirth.  She felt so bad, but got the point ...  because she hasn't brought up anything adoption-related recently at all.

Scenario #3
My very fertile neighbour (she has 5 kids, including 2 sets of fraternal twins), came over yesterday for a quick playdate with our babes.  Her mom is a birth mom from a closed adoption, and from what I gather, adoption has some negative connotations for them.  Anyway, we were chatting about a tap dancing show that she is going to perform in and the story randomly shifted to a friend of hers who so happens to be adopted.  Out of nowhere, she tells me that her adopted friend grew up feeling isolated from her adoptive family and never felt grounded in life because her adoptive parents never understood her.  Then she met her birth mom and everything changed, she has a new attitude towads life and that she finally feels understood.  I think this is great and don't doubt that meeting her birth mom did her friend a world of good (which is why we are in an open adoption, b/c we see the benefits for everyone involved, especially Moonbeam).  But really.  The last thing I need to hear is that the friend had a shitty life thanks to her shitty adopted family and their inability to parent her the way she needed to be parented.  Of course, I didn't say anything, but in my mind I was screaming at her to stop talking and wishing she would stop talking about negative adoption experiences with me.

So ya.  Some advice I got today was to just let it all roll off my back and to laugh it off.  Other advice I've received is to essentially shut these people down and, if required, embarrass them so that they understand their behaviour is offensive.  But here's the thing.  I just smile and pretend I'm rolling with it...  I think part of it has to do with being a people pleaser and wanting to avoid conflict at all costs.  Part of it has to do with feeling a bit fragile and emotional about the very issues people throw at me.  And part of it has to do with not being super quick on my feet in these situations, and not coming up with a response until much later.

So what do you think?  How would you respond in these situations?  Are you more of a let it roll or clear the air kind of person?  I'd be interested to know how others handle/would handle these scenarios!

Overcoming Insecurity

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I am waging a war on insecurity.  This is a tough one all around.  So far, one of the toughest parts of this battle has been admitting that I am insecure over oh-so-many-things.  It's embarrassing, I feel vulnerable, I even feel ashamed.  I don't want to be an insecure adoptive mom - I want to be strong, secure, confident in my position in all of this.

Last weekend we had a visit with Aurora and it was textbook great.  Moonbeam was thrilled by all the attention and there is no question that she adores her birth mom.  Aurora was great - happy and engaged and interested in Moonbeam and in our family life.  Apollo was great, taking pictures of all of us, making us snacks, sharing funny little stories about Moonbeam's shining personality. 

There was only one problem.  And that problem was me.  Specifically, that problem was my own insecurity.

Apollo says I played it off totally legit, but inside I was kind of panicking.  With every kiss, smile or hug that Moonbeam shared with Aurora, I felt left out.  I felt myself shrinking in importance, I felt myself disengaging from what was happening.  I felt isolated.

When Aurora left and Moonbeam waved bye bye while resting her head on my shoulder, I sighed so many sighs of relief.  And then I slipped away from Moonbeam and Apollo so that I could quietly sob away my insecurities.

I'm embarrassed that this is how I felt/feel and that I'm struggling with this part of adoption. 

I am afraid of losing my daughter, of not being good enough for her or for Aurora.  I am afraid of being rejected by Moonbeam. 

This all seems crazy to a part of me that is very rational.  But it all makes perfect sense to a part of me that is frightened, afraid to let go, afraid to give in, afraid to trust.

I am unquestionably Moonbeam's mom.  Honestly, I know this.  Moonbeam knows this, Aurora knows this, the whole world knows this.  The only one who seems to second guess this from time to time is me.  I have never wanted to take away that title from Aurora, I've always wanted to share it, although I never really knew how.  But here's the thing - it's not a question of Aurora retaining, gaining or losing her title as mom - this has nothing to do with me.  But I NEED to own this title come hell or high water, because there's certainly no turning back now, I am a million percent this little girl's mom.  I'm going to own it.  I'm going to stand tall and rock this mom thing.  I have no trouble rocking it when Aurora's not there, but as soon as she's around, I shrink into a version of myself that lacks confidence and seems weak.  An insecure version of myself that frankly I don't like being a part of.

And I'm starting to realize that by being strong, this doesn't mean that I am a bully to Aurora.  It means I'm in charge of myself and my family.  It means I'm giving Moonbeam 100% of me 100% of the time, even when Aurora is around.  Having Aurora around does not make me any less of a mom.

So I'm working on this, especially this Mother's Day weekend.  I'm working on it by reaching out to Aurora and learning to trust her.  Learn to trust that as much as I have her back, she has mine too.  It's hard.  It's hard because I'm afraid that Moonbeam will get hurt some day and I'm afraid I will too. 

I will never forget the moment that Aurora and I held Moonbeam between us and held each other while we cried, the moment right before Aurora left the hospital and officially made me a mom.  I am a mother because this strong, beautiful woman made it so.  I have to trust that she is not trying to take away the very thing that she made entirely possible.  So tomorrow, Mother's Day, she will come to our house and we will hug our daughter together and celebrate our very unique relationship and our very unique motherhood. 

We have gained so much because of each other's commitment to our little girl and to each other. 

My Mom-iversary (a few weeks late!)

Photo by Karpati Gabor
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I've been a mom now for a little over a year.  Incredible.  After 10 years of wondering, hoping, wishing, it's really here, happening in real time.  I just put my little girl to bed, I just cleaned up all of her toys and books, I just recovered a lost soother thrown over the edge of the crib and curddled her back to sleep. 

Over the past month, I've paid very close attention to the small details of my life by comparing where I'm at now as compared to where I was exactly one year ago.  It started with our anniversary this year on February 25th - we didn't do anything fancy to celebrate this year at all, but it was an amazing day.  Our anniversary not only marked our 8th year of marriage, it was also one year exactly since our last day of childlessness.  February 25th, 2013 (last year - our 7th anniversary) marked the last day in our lives that we would ever wonder if/when we would have a baby.  Last year on February 25th, Apollo bought me flowers, he took my picture with the colourful bouquet and we went out to dinner together.  We were happy, but there was heaviness in our hearts too ...  another wedding anniversary with no baby to help mark the passing years, another night of just the two of us wondering when it would finally become the three of us.

Then, the next day, we found out we were about to become parents.  Just like that, the waiting, the wondering, the loneliness was gone. 

It's amazing how life can change in the brief moments of a phonecall.  I became an expectant mom at 6:00 p.m. one Tuesday night and I became a mom the following week. 

Apollo and I worked through infertility for ten years.  It shaped so much of who we are as a couple, how we look at the world and now how we parent.  We wanted this so badly and I know that neither of us take these very special moments for granted.  Our daughter is one.  ONE!!!  I am a mom of a one year old!  This funny, sweet, smart little girl.  In spite of (or because of?) adoption, we love to see parts of ourselves shine through our daughter.

The magic of our story is never lost on us.  We waited many many years for this special little girl and we feel so very blessed to have her as our daughter.  I feel so very blessed to be a mother.  To be HER mother. 

Now that our journey to parenthood is over and we can sit back and enjoy the beauty of this trip, I am thankful that I had to go through so much to get to where I am now.  I am full of gratitude and I feel like my priorities are straight.  Family time is precious ... fleeting moments when a little hand pats my knee or a gummy smile is flashed my way mean more to me than anything in the world.  Being a mom brings me the most happiness of anything.  And I really think I have infertility to thank for this.  I looked at a future of childlessness square in the eye and grieved.  And then I was blessed with a baby.

Good is Back

Source

It's been a while since I was feeling that things were genuinely in a good space with our open adoption.  Today I feel I can genuinely say that good is making its way back.

I look back at the ups and downs of how things have gone over the past year and I wonder if there are things that I should regret.  I don't doubt that I've made mistakes.  I don't doubt that I've said hurtful things, despite not meaning to.  I don't doubt that my own insecurities have clouded my judgment at times.

Over the course of the past year, Apollo, Aurora and I have all done our best, this I am sure.  We've done our best for ourselves, for each other, but most of all we've done our best for little Moonbeam.  Oh little Moonbeam, who we all love so very much.

I have learned that I have limits and that this is ok.  I have learned that I am the only piece of this puzzle that I can control.  I have learned (am learning) that guilt is not indicative of having done something wrong ...  I have learned (am learning) that guilt is not an objective or healthy way to process the dynamics of our relationship.

I feel Aurora growing stronger and I am so thankful for this.  I see her gaining confidence in our triad and asking for things that are important for her. 

I feel myself relaxing.  I feel myself starting to trust again.

I feel Apollo gaining understanding and comfort that we're all going to be ok.

I feel Moonbeam radiating happiness, love and joy.  I feel that because the three adults in our adoption are able to come together with openness, strength and understanding, Moonbeam is going to shine and radiate a light that is beyond beautiful.

We've had some tough times in our open adoption and it's hard not to wonder if there were things that should have been done, said and handled differently.  If I'm being honest, yes, there are times where we've made some mistakes. 

But, I feel that these mistakes were necessary - they were what needed to happen to establish personal ground rules and healthy boundaries.  They weren't easy to walk through as they were happening, but at the end of the day, they were good.  Without mistakes, we would have learned nothing.

I feel like the lines of communication are opening up again - that we've gained some tools to process the shock of what's happened to all of us (birth, adoption, parenting, not parenting, gaining immediate new family, loss, getting to know each other, grief, guilt, happiness, pride, you name it!).  We are learning our roles in our daughter's life and are gaining comfort that none of us are going anywhere, that we're committed to each other, to this little girl we all love so very much.

So ya, I'm feeling good.  I think we all are.  I am excited about where our relationship is headed.  I'm not naive to think that it's smooth sailing forever ahead ...  but I do know that our bond is strengthening and that we are gaining trust that we really do have each others' backs. 

The key?  Talking and opening up.  Opening even when the door feels stuck - pushing with all our might and looking to see what is behind the door, even when it feels safer to keep it locked shut.  I'm learning that safe doesn't mean better.  Opening up can be scary, but it's the only way to sweep out the dust and let the fresh air and sunshine in.