Adoption hiatus

We've been on an adoption hiatus.  I used to look for adoption teaching moments all the time with my daughter and am, for the time being, taking a break from identitying these moments.  I'm starting to realize that not everything in her little life has to point back to the moments in time when she passed from one mom to another.  In fact, I am finally coming to terms with the idea that there is way more to Moonbeam's story than her adoption.  Her story is her - with and without adoption.  Adoption is one piece of it, not all of it.  I wonder how often bio moms talk about their child's birth story when their child is only 2.5 years old?  Probably doesn't come up too much.  So we're not bringing it up too much either.  We're focusing on our little family and not the events leading up to our union as family.  We just need a break from it all...  So we're soaking up all that is normal about our family and not all that is hard for now.

And so it begins

Today my little girl noticed a framed picture we have on display in her room of her birth mom holding her the day after she was born, the day Aurora signed over guardianship to Apollo and I.  Aurora is smiling in the picture, proud of her baby girl, proud of the moment she had as her mother.

I pulled the picture down for Moonbeam to get a good look and took this as an opportunity to talk about how special Aurora is to her.  That Aurora is her birth mom.  That this means Moonbeam grew in  her tummy and that Aurora loves her very much.  That Moonbeam has two mommies - me, the mommy that takes care of her and loves her every day …  and Aurora, the mommy that carried her in her tummy and who also loves Moonbeam every day.  

Moonbeam looked at me and said very definitively, "No, I grew in mommy's tummy.  In YOUR tummy."

This was hard.  A lot harder than I expected it would ever be.  I'd rehearsed this many times, told Moonbeam the story many times, but I swear this was the first time it really clicked with her.  

And honestly, I felt so sad for her.  

This is a lot for a 2.5 year old to process.  She knows that everyone loves her very much and there is no doubt she feels comfortable in her own skin.  She is a cherished child, spoiled rotten and very happy.  I have no doubt that she lives a full, rich, happy life.

But as she contemplated this and stared at the picture, running her tiny little finger around the frame, I felt she understood.  That yes babies grow in mommies' tummies - but that she didn't grow in HER mommy's tummy.  That she realized something was different about her/us and that she didn't want to have to deal with it.  That the difference in our relationship compared to that of other moms and kids was the first time she has had to confront adoption loss.  And she's only 2 and a half.  It's a lot.

I had a very hard time not holding her too close to me, not squeezing her too hard.  So instead, I just sat with her and held her close and breathed, letting the moment wash over her, over me.

I put her to bed, closed the door and then let myself cry.

And so here we are.  

Letting go

I have a weird thing about letting go.  Like if I let go of the idea of baby #2 and when that's going to happen for us, it never will.  Like being satisfied about my own current life situation will make the next thing I'm hoping for never happen.

I know it doesn't make sense, but I feel unable to let the tension related to "when" and "how" just go ...  just in case by surrendering I'm jinxing myself from the very thing I want so badly from never happening.

Realistically I know none of this makes any sense.  I'm holding on/obsessing about an idea of something (when will I get another baby?  how will this happen?) which is unrelated to the events that will need to take place for baby 2 to happen (crisis pregnancy from a woman who wants to place her baby, our profile being shown, our profile being picked, us having a relationship with an expectant mom that is strong enough to validate her placing her baby with us).

Had this not happened to me once before, I think I would be thinking the chances of this happening are incredibly unlikely.  But it happens.  Circumstances, situations happen.  This too will happen.  It's just really really hard to not know when and how.

It's time to let it go though.  I've been holding on too tightly and the uncertainty is driving me bonkers.  I want another baby, but I worry that I'm focusing too much thought on this and not enough on appreciating that I am one helluva lucky mama just as it stands today.  So time to grab hold of that "when will this happen, when will this happen, when will this happen" and push forward to "wow - this is really awesome ...  I have a two year old and she rocks.  Let's enjoy this time."

Letting go...

Less please

This week has been insanely busy.  Monday there was something but I already can't remember.  Tuesday nights Apollo works so I fly solo that night with Moonbeam, trying to put in some work OT after she goes to bed.  Wednesday another flying solo night while Apollo fulfilled a friend obligation that night; meanwhile I watched Moonbeam and made/iced 3 dozen cupcakes for a friend's bday.  Thursday I had an adoption workshop that Aurora and I were attending together, so she came over at 5:30, we had dinner then spent a couple hours at the seminar followed by a debrief drink at my house with Apollo.  Tonight was dinner with friends.

In the midst of all this, two more adoption calls.  We said no to both - didn't require a ton of deliberation and neither of us got emotional at all.  We're getting so used to them.

But used to the calls does not mean this is a decent way to live.  The social workers don't like calling us with sad sad situations, I can tell.  They seem almost apologetic.  The thing is, there are more than 140 other families in the list...  Why us?  I saw a couple that have been waiting 2.5 years for a call...  They sounded like their parameters are similar to ours...  And they've only had three calls in all this time.  So why us?

We're trying to schedule a meeting with a social worker to sort this out in the next short while.  The sooner the better.  6 months and 6 calls... And it's all been dicey.  We need a little more stability, less up and down.

Feeling better

I'm feeling calmer this weekend than I have in a lot of weekends. 

Things have been crazy over the past couple weeks.  We got yet another call two Fridays ago from the agency (call #4...  we'd been through the same rigamarole only two weeks earlier) asking if they could show our profile to an expectant couple who were 37 weeks along in their pregnancy.  We got the details, said yes, then waited for a week and a half to hear if we were chosen.

That week and a half was awful.  It's been the longest wait we've had between first hearing of a situation then finding out the results.  We had limited details of the situation, so were having a hard time even grappling with whether it was one we would say yes to in the end once all information had been gathered.  I had a lot going on in other parts of my life - community stuff, home stuff, work stuff.  Even though I was so busy (distractions are usually good), I could barely focus let alone get anything done. 

In the end, the expectant couple chose another family.  We were one of four families being shown, so we knew all along that there was only a 25% chance (or less, if you consider they have the option to choose a private direct adoption with someone outside the agency, which has happened to us before, and that they can always choose to parent themselves, which happens too).  This is the first time that we weren't the family chosen (that we know about anyway) - I knew this would probably happen at some point and didn't know how I'd feel about it.

I touched base with the agency on Tuesday morning and got the news that we weren't the selected family.  Honestly, the only thing I felt was relief.  I'm pretty surprised that this is how I felt.  I didn't even feel a little bit sad, which I still find interesting.  I found out at 10:00 a.m. and met with a client at 10:10 a.m. without missing a beat.

So now we're back in waiting limbo again, but this time I feel different.  Any other time we've been called and rattled to the bone, it's taken me at least 2 weeks to recover.  This time I feel settled.  Like it's really going to be ok.  Like even if I have to wait for a long while before another baby comes, I can handle this.  I've got one hell of a great kid already who amazes me every day and keeps my life rich and full.  Yes, another baby would be awesome.  Really, really awesome.  Yes, having this waiting/expecting part of my life over with would be a huge relief.  But for the first time in months, I'm feeling settled.  Content, as my friend Lori would say.  And for this, I am so thankful.  I need this feeling.  I've needed it for awhile.  It's been a bumpy road for the past few months and I'm looking forward to a bit of calm ...  before the next baby storm.

#MicroblogMondays - Effects of 12 years

We've been trying to build our family for 12 years - a helluva long time if you ask me.  For all of these years I've been looking forward to the next step in a long sequence of unanticipated movements.  In all these years, I've never been entirely settled.  I feel it's only a matter of time before our family is complete...  And then what?  Have I trained my mind, my body, my whole existence to feel unsettled?  Will I be content with my two kids, my regular job, my normal family?  What have 12 years of waiting done to my psyche and my ability to be present?

Still we wait

I don't know if it's easier or more difficult to get adoption calls as compared to getting none until "the one".  It's been a week since hearing about the last baby and pretty much every minute of this past week I've had my cell phone glued to my body, waiting with anxious anticipation in the event that we get another call.  The chances of this happening are incredibly minute, but I can't seem to stop myself.  I pretend to myself that it's a form of "intuition", as though I can "feel it" that we're going to get a call any day now, but I know I'm just fooling myself...  It's obsession and anxiety that are driving this behaviour.

On the other hand, I think I would be depressed if I'd received zero calls.  I know lots of people in this situation and the wait is just as hard for them as it is for me.  Maybe harder?  As someone pointed out last week, we at least know that our profile hasn't been forgotten.  

And still we wait.  I've been concentrating on distracting myself with home projects and planning Moonbeam's birthday party.  But my mind is still somewhere else.  

Verdict is in

I woke up this morning feeling really antsy and uncertain about how everything was going to pan out.  I knew that baby had most likely been born last night and that mom was going to make her decision today.

I texted the on call social worker and asked if she had any news.  I waited for an excruciating hour before I heard back.  Mom decided to place her baby through a private direct adoption with someone she knew personally rather than through the agency.

I felt ok about it all.  I'm disappointed that we won't be bringing home a baby, but I feel that this was the best decision for the baby.  I don't know the details, but I suspect the baby will stay in its home community, which is really important for maintaining cultural connection.  Also, I suspect that the adoption will be more open than had the baby been placed with us ...  because the mom knows and clearly trusts the parents she's placing with, I imagine that openness will be a more natural fit for everyone in this situation instead of if the baby was removed from its home community and placed with parents (us) who are not culturally connected to them at all.

So back to the drawing board.  Apollo feels relieved.  I feel disappointed, but I also feel optimistic.  Moonbeam has been asking about "the baby" all day - we never specifically addressed this particular baby with her, but it's obvious that our discussions have permeated her spongey little mind.  We took her out to the toy store and bought her a new bike to take all our minds off of the stress of the weekend and to remind ourselves how truly lucky we already are.

Moving on.

Worst part is the waiting

We haven't heard anything further about the baby that is being born today/tomorrow that we were called about.  I did talk to the social worker yesterday and I got the sense that there is a lot of uncertainty over whether mom will decide to place or not.  So there's that.

There are at least two other families that will be shown (up to four others - the social worker still hadn't heard from two of the five families she'd contacted when I talked to her yesterday afternoon).  So there's that.

The baby being born is 100% non-Caucasian.  We are currently a 100% Caucasian family.  So, I feel like it's unlikely that a mom and dad would place their non-Caucasian child in a fully Caucasian family.  There's all that.

In our profile and in our paperwork, we talk a lot about our open adoption with Aurora and that we look forward to having an open relationship with the next baby's family.  We talk about wanting to get to know mom and dad on a personal level.  We know that this mom and dad don't want to meet the prospective family and want limited contact.  So ya, there's also that.

I feel like there's a lot pointing towards a big fat no.  But a big part of me is really wanting this to work out.  I want another baby really badly, and situations like this remind me of this so much.  I feel anxious and I feel sad.  I feel hopeful, but the realistic side of me is screaming that there is a very slim chance this is going to work out.

Mom was/will be induced today ...  my google search and experience with Moonbeam's birth is that it will be a minimum of 12 hours between induction and birth, which means baby won't be born until tonight or tomorrow.

We'll know more tomorrow and we'll know for certain on Monday ...  the social worker told me she'd call us on Monday either way.

It's hard to keep this private in our normal lives - I've had to let work know that I may not be there as of Monday b/c I may have to drive 3 hours to get the baby from the hospital.  I've had to arrange childcare for Moonbeam in the event that we have to bolt tomorrow.  I've had to rearrange plans I've had with friends in the event that we have an early morning wake up and mad dash to pick up our new son/daughter.

I hate this part.  I really, really hate this part.  The worst part is the waiting.

Another call

So - another call received from the agency about a baby today.  Expectant mom hasn't yet decided if she wants to parent this baby and will be induced on Saturday.  We were asked if our profile could be shown in the event she wants to make a last minute adoption plan.  I'm having a hard time getting excited, feeling attached or committing to the process...  We'll let our profile be shown, but it's so uncertain as to whether this will a) go through or b) we'll be chosen.

At the very least, I feel it's cause to feel a mix of emotions - excitement, nervousness, happiness for a new life joining the world, anxiety, uncertainty.  I don't know what my gut's saying at this point, but I'm not sure it really matters b/c if there's one thing that I've learned through the ups and down of waiting and matches and this process is that everything is unpredictable and my gut only speaks the truth at the very end where the fork in the road lies.

We are open to this but know and trust that this will work out for all of us, no matter what decision the birth parents make.

If you've got the time to light a candle or say a silent mantra for this new life and his/her mom and dad, please do so.

Toddler tantrum link

is this anyone else's reality these days?

http://www.sunnyskyz.com/blog/119/36-Reasons-My-Kid-Is-Crying-Temper-Tantrums-You-Can-t-Help-But-Laugh-At

Eyes and hearts

I was standing at the check out line the other day and was totally stunned at how similar two little boys (brothers) looked to each other and to their mother.  It took a few minutes to register that this was "normal" and obviously what most families face...  Same noses, same eyes and ears and freckles. Right, I thought, they are a biological family.  They are the norm...  My norm isn't really the norm.  Right.

I looked at my daughter and although I didn't see my eyes or my nose or my freckles reflected back at me on her face, I saw our hearts entwined in her sweet little smile.

Two years in

Moonbeam turns two in a little over a month.  Unbelievable right?  Well for me it is ...  Time has passed so quickly in some ways.  But two years is a long time too... I feel like I've learned so much and have come so far with everything.

I remember feeling so much angst in that first year of being an adoptive mom.  I felt like I didn't fit in all the time, I felt like a bit of a fraud.  I felt unprepared for motherhood, having spent years and years trying to figure out how to get a baby and thinking one would never come.  Then within a matter of a week of this mindset, I had one.

Then I faced guilt.  Lots and lots of guilt around how to handle Aurora's loss.  I struggled with my own happiness in the face of her sadness.  I watched it first hand and tried desperately to fix it for her, to do anything I could to lessen the burden of her loss.  This took its toll on me and held me back from my own healing.

Then I consciously created a barrier between her grief and my own guilt.  This was so hard.  Apollo questioned me and Aurora lashed out.  But I stuck to my guns and created distance, so we could heal as a family unit ...  Apollo, Moonbeam and I ...  And Apollo, Moonbeam, Aurora and I.  Two different units, yet one and the same if that makes any sense.

Two years later, I am putting more of the pieces of Aurora's story together and can clearly see that she  never wanted to parent.  This brings me so much peace, as I feel more confident in my position and know more of how I can tell Moonbeam her story.  I have more answers and this feels so much better than fumbling for answers.  I think the answers were always there, it's just that emotions clouded where to find them.

I also feel like two years in, our relationship with Aurora is easier, more comfortable, less intense.  I think this is to be expected...  We had a crazy year of personal upheaval combined with getting to know each other.  That first year is bound to be emotionally challenging I think.  I think the intensity of that first year is over...  Which I'm thankful for.  Our relationship is normalizing - roles are defined, trust is built/building, we know each other way more than those early days.  We understand each others' needs for space and closeness at the same time.  I think the hard parts were necessary to get to where we are now.  We are family, the four of us.  That feels good and easy to say, whereas I think a year ago that would have been a really emotionally charged thing to say.

Sometimes I look at Moonbeam's face and am startled at how clear and sweet and loving and trusting this little girl is.  How much of mine she is, how much a part of me she is and how much a part I am of her.  I know there will be bumps in the road as we navigate the emotions associated with how we came to be a family, but oh man are we ever a family.  And this is so good - all of it is so good.  I look back on the ups and downs we've had so far to get to this point and know it always all part of the process.  I wouldn't change a thing.

In the moment

Today we took down our Xmas decorations and packed them away.  This made me sad - another indication of how quickly time is passing with my little girl... especially in comparison to those ten long years I waited to become a mom.  I felt so nostalgic as we put everything away, complete with a lump in my throat and tightness in my chest.  

When I pulled out the box to place the Xmas tree balls back into, Moonbeam shrieked with delight when she realized we were filling the box with these tree jewels.  She had a goofy, toothy grin for the duration of the activity and laughed giddily from time to time.  It was apparent that there was absolutely no nostalgia to this almost two year old ...  Just sheer delight in life's simplicity and a complete in-the-moment way of existing.  I have a lot to learn from this special sweet girl.