Never thought I'd be writing this post

Two weeks ago, I came home from work and DH told me he wants a divorce. I'm in shock. I'll admit we have our ups and downs, but I never thought we were moving toward this. He won't go to counseling. He won't take time on his own to think about it. He's decided he's done and he wants to move on and start a new life. It's like I'm on a train that won't stop. We have our first divorce mediation session this week.

I don't have the words to describe how much pain I'm feeling. Pain for my baby, who doesn't need any more loss in his life. Pain for the life I thought I had. Pain for DH because I know he's going to be hurt by this in the end. I need strength right now and I don't know if I have enough.

Smashing Heads

I used to bump P's head into doorjambs on a regular basis. Not on purpose, of course (no calls to CPS, please). But I'd be carrying him from one room to another, trying to remember where I'd left the thermometer or his shoes or his bottle and then. . .THUNK. . .followed by. . .Waaaah! To be followed by the internal tongue lashing at my self for being such a rotten mom that I'd cause a head injury to this amazing child that I was caring for until the state officially made me his parent. To then be followed by the worry that I really did hurt him and that I would have to bring him to the emergency room and CPS would decide I was too careless to be a mom and take him from me. Fun times, those were. Eventually, I got better at figuring out how to enter and leave a room without giving P a concussion.

It occurred to me recently that there's the possibility that my clumsiness may have something to do with adoption. I think that maybe part of the reason pregnant women get big (other than carrying a child in their uterus) is to prepare them for parenthood after. If you've become used to maneuvering carefully through doorways for a few months, perhaps that carries over to maneuvering carefully as you carry your infant. . .who grows a bit every month during which you become accustomed to his size and shape and adjust accordingly as you carry him and so avoid walking him into doorjambs. Maybe because we adopted P I just needed a few extra months to get used to his space in my arms. I needed to catch up.

Or maybe not? Maybe all my friends who gave birth to their children caused them near-concussions on a regular basis, but never told me? Maybe it's not an adoption-related issue at all and I'm just clumsy. That's a real possibility.

I'm still here. It's hard for me to know what to write sometimes. Navigating through adoption is one part of my life, but it's a fairly small part at the moment due primarily to P's age and somewhat due to our lack of relationship with his birth family. My time is mostly spent just living life as a working mom of a three year old. Adoption isn't front and center. And I kind of feel that the reason people tune in here is to read about adopting after infertility or adopting from foster care. I don't know that my adventures trying to get P to wear pants (yes, that is a real issue in our home) are what they're looking for. But I have nothing else to offer at the moment, so from here on out this blog will be a mix of whatever is happening in my life---the terrible (and awesome) threes, relationships, adoption, body image, and a partridge in a pear tree, or whatever else may come my way.

I didn't call the next morning or the one after that. I waited until DH and I could have time to have a conversation about this possibility of a second child. Immediately being told "Absolutely not" isn't much of a conversation. When we finally did talk, I told DH that I really want to do this. That a sibling isn't taking away from P; it's a gift. That I would be thinking about this for a while because although his No would make my decision for me, it didn't change what I was feeling in my heart. The end result was the same. We're not going to adopt again. I can't force a situation on DH that he really doesn't want to be part of. I called P's adoption worker and left a message, explaining that we weren't able to move forward with the situation and shared some of DH's concerns. She wrote back a kind email thanking us for considering the situation and stating:

the fact that you are so focused on P's best interest is one of the many reasons I thought of you for the child I am currently working with. P is lucky to have both of you.

Of course, we all know that we're the ones who are lucky to have P in our lives, but it was a lovely reply. I'm doing better with the whole situation as time passes. I don't want to live my life as though it's lacking in some way because I have only one child. I know I'm beyond fortunate to have my one beautiful boy. I'm trying to focus on appreciating what I have.

Possibilities

P's adoption worker called me this afternoon to "check in." Since we finalized over 6 months ago, I was surprised to hear from her. She gave me her cell phone number to call her back and said I could call until 9 o'clock tonight. Little warning bells started going off in my head. I called anyway. She's trying to find a home for an 8 month old legally free baby girl. She asked if we're interested. She didn't know if our reluctance to remain in the pool was due to wanting only one child or if it was about not wanting to deal with legal risk and all that it entails again. I told her that I'm shocked she doesn't have a line out the door for this little one.* I told her I'd talk to DH and call her back tomorrow. What I wanted to tell her was, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

DH has had serious reservations about adopting again. Sure enough, he immediately shot down the idea. He doesn't think he can physically handle two kids. He worries that we couldn't financially handle two kids. He loves taking care of P during the day and is afraid having a baby would take away from P. He's concerned that this little girl may have more special needs than we can deal with (there's prenatal drug exposure and mild developmental delays and the unknown). I totally understand all of his reasons. I know I need to respect his reasons even if I have more faith than he does in our abilities.

But, oh, this is breaking my heart. I didn't even realize how much I long for another child until this afternoon's phone call. Now, I'm sitting here imagining a sister for P, a daughter for us, knowing I'm just torturing myself because it's not going to happen. DH is unchangeable once he makes up his mind. Even so, I'm not going to call the social worker back to give our answer until tomorrow. A lot can happen in 16 hours. It's not likely, but keeping the possibility open even just until the morning makes me feel a bit better.

*Realistically, I think there's more to the situation than she can share with me now. There are many possibilities. Since we aren't at the point of a disclosure meeting, she can't tell me all. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around why there wouldn't be families fighting over this baby. A legally free 8 month old available for adoption is unheard of.

IVF always works. Everyone who uses it is successful and has a baby.

So I'm a little late on the Bust a Myth post, but the theme of my life seems to be better late than never, so it's only fitting that I'm trying to pump this out less than two hours before National Infertility Awareness Week ends. The reason for my tardiness is that I've been going back and forth about which myth I felt called to bust. I thought perhaps the one about not being able to adopt a baby when doing foster-adopt. Or the just adopt one. Or the just relax one. But in the end, it's the IVF myth that has caused me the most heartache and so, for me, is the most deserving of being busted.

I started 4 IVF cycles. Two of them ended in transfer. Two of them ended in IUIs due to poor egg quantity and probably quality. None of them ended in pregnancy. I was ready to keep on going until I reached my health insurance provider's limit of 6 paid IVF cycles (I live in a state that mandates infertility coverage). I had a friend who was able to get 7 IVF cycles paid for by her insurer and got pregnant with her daughter on cycle #7. I bought into the myth. I figured if I just got in enough cycles, I would hit the jackpot like everyone else who did IVF. . .

And then I had my first, and then my second, failed cycle. . .

And my RE brought up the donor egg talk. . .

And I got booted from my RE's practice so as not to mess up their success rate, nicely booted, but booted just the same. . .

And my new RE told me that my chances of getting pregnant were less than 5% with IVF and way, way, way less than that without it. . .

And my health insurer decided that I'd be blowing their money if I tried IVF again with my own eggs so they said #4 would be my last. . .

And I finally realized that IVF doesn't always work. That the fail-safe sometimes fails. That there would be no biological child for me and Mr. OGE. I wish someone had told me! Although, if they had told me, and perhaps they actually did tell me, I would have always pictured myself on the positive side of the statistics. You can't go into an ordeal like IVF expecting to fail.

The revelation I've come to recently is that even though I didn't get pregnant, IVF didn't fail me completely. It gave me options. It gave me some sense of control. It gave me the opportunity to learn what an amazing and supportive group of friends and family I have. It helped me feel like I did everything I could possibly do to have a biological child, and in doing so it helped me to let go of that dream and move on to another---the dream of becoming a parent through adoption.

For more information about infertility, visit RESOLVE.

For more about National Infertility Awareness week, visit here.

Still here and waiting some more

I know it's been a while.  I just thought I would share that we're still waiting to get P's amended birth certificate.  We were told it would take 16 weeks from finalization which seemed an inordinate amount of time at that moment.  How naive we were.  We aren't at 16 weeks quite yet, but DH went to the state office to check on the status of the birth certificate.  He figured it might be ready and if not he'd have a better idea of when it would be.  He was told not to bother checking back until at least another two months have passed. And that it probably wouldn't be ready then because they were short-staffed and swamped.  So sorry.  Next in line.

Ugh.  I love bureaucracy.

Is that my kid? Do the math.

DH found a photo on the ground in the yard at the end of our driveway. It was a photo from a professional portrait studio of a baby wearing a My First Christmas outfit. DH brought it inside and left it on the counter.  I asked him who it was.  He said he didn't know, but he didn't want to throw it out because he thought there was a chance it could be Phenix.  His thinking was that maybe it fell out of an envelope the social worker had given us with another photo of P from right before he came to live with us.  She'd found that photo in his file while preparing for finalization and gave it to us along with some other info. 

The photo DH found stayed on the counter for almost a week.  We couldn't tell if it was Phenix or not and we didn't want to risk throwing it out.  More than likely, it's just a photo that fell out of someone's early Christmas card and blew from the mail truck to our front yard. But when you adopt a child older than a newborn, early photos from before the adoption are treasures. Throwing one out would be like tossing your wedding album in the trash.  You just don't do it. 

Over the past couple of days I've started feeling guilty because I can't tell whether it's Phenix in the photo.  It sounds silly, but I've caught myself asking what kind of mother I am that I can't recognize my own kid.  Then I remind myself that I've always been horrible in those baby photo contests when you have to match the baby photo to the celebrity.  I can't find the similarities between the infant face and adult one.  I just can't do it, so this isn't really any different, right? Then I go back to examining the found photo and looking at Phenix and deciding and changing my mind a million times that it definitely is/isn't him.  And I ask myself what kind of mother doesn't recognize her own child.  

Today I realized that on the back of the photo someone had written the words "6 months."  I'd seen the words before, but for reasons I can't explain I didn't really attend to them.  I finally did the math and figured out that Phenix was only 3 1/2 months old for his first Christmas.  So unless someone labeled the photo incorrectly or had him take a first Christmas photo in March when he actually was 6 months old, Phenix is not the baby in the photo.  Other information had pointed in that direction: the baby in the photo was chubbier than P likely was (he had bad acid reflux and was about to be labeled failure to thrive at that age) and the mouth and ears weren't quite right. But the eyes and forehead were similar and I'd never seen him before he was 12 months old so how could I be sure?  The "6 months" math seems pretty conclusive. 

So the photo isn't sitting on our counter any longer.  It's in a drawer in our desk in the office.  I still can't bring myself to throw it out.  Why? Because. . .well. . .I just can't.  You know.  Just in case. 

Holiday Cards

I read about this offer (50 free Holiday Cards from Shutterfly) on Wendy's blog, Our Story.  Like a lot of people, I don't usually like to post stuff like this on my blog, but I loved the cards that Wendy showcased and I've had good experiences when I've used Shutterfly in the past when making mouse pads for P's Aunties and photo magnets for DH to put up in his locker at work. I figured it was worth a look.  I'm glad I did look because when I went to Shutterfly I found the perfect holiday card for us.

This has been a big year for us.  A lot has happened, including our finalization of P's adoption, and I'd like to share the news.  However, there's no way I'm going to find the time in the next few weeks to get a holiday letter written. When I saw this card, it looked like it was made for us.  I'm going to list different events from throughout the year.  The #1 moment will be "becoming a forever family." I'm going to put our adoption day photo in the middle and a photo of P on either side. I'm so excited to see the final product.  Last year, it took me forever to find a card I liked. On top of that, I spent about 3 days forcing P into various holiday outfits so I could take his photo and had to sort through probably 1,000 photos as a result before I decided on one photo that I liked enough to use. Since this card is about Top Ten Moments of 2010, I feel comfortable using some great photos from the summer and fall and don't feel like I have to use a Christmas one.  I may actually get my cards out early this year!

Final

We finalized! Friday, October 22 was Phenix's adoption day. It was an amazing, joy-filled day with lots of friends and family helping us celebrate. He's been ours in hearts since we first met him, but now he's ours forever.  Nobody can take him away.  I didn't realize that I was holding my breath, until after the court ceremony, when I was getting congratulations hugs from Phenix's brother's parents.  Suddenly, I could breathe again and realized that I hadn't really been breathing for a while. What a difference a signature on a piece of paper makes!

I'm now able to write his real name, Phenix Jake, and share some pics of him. In all honesty, I'll probably freak out about privacy and take these down at some point, but here they are for now:

ETA: I did end up having my privacy freak out and took the photos down.  I have to decide how I'm going to deal with the battle between being open and honest and being private on here.  Maybe I'll write more about that in a future post. 

We have a date!

In fewer than two weeks, we'll be finalizing our adoption of L!  I'm beyond excited.  Time can't move fast enough!

A year ago, I was a new mom: trying to figure out how to change a diaper without my baby arching away from me and screaming his lungs out, exactly how much food a one year old was supposed to eat, how to keep my little guy from rocking nonstop in his highchair during meal times, how to get him to fall asleep and then to sleep through the night.  My sister told me at the time that she and my BIL liked to look at a video they took of their oldest daughter's first diaper change at home because it made them feel like they'd come so far.  She laughed about how it took two of them a good five minutes to finish the task when soon after she could change a diaper by herself one-handed in 2.7 seconds.  

I remember wondering if I would ever feel like that as a parent. Competent, natural, like I had it under control.  Because those first few months I wasn't sure it would happen. I felt like an imposter.  Maybe it was because he was one and not calling me Mama.  Maybe it was because I was his fourth mom.  Maybe it was because he wasn't legally ours.* I loved him with everything I had in me, and in my heart he was my son, but I wasn't sure I would feel like I was his mom. Did anyone else feel that same distinction? When we went out in public and someone told me how cute he was, out loud I would say "thanks," but in my head would follow, "we're adopting him so we don't deserve any credit for it." Same when someone would say how well-behaved he was, or how smart he was,  or how happy he was.  

I'm happy to say that caveat (we're adopting him) has stopped popping into my head every time our guy gets compliments.  Not that we deserve or don't deserve credit, but just that it doesn't matter. My response, external and internal, stops at, "Thanks."  I don't know when or how it happened, except maybe time, daily living, building attachment, but there is no doubt that I'm my boy's mother.  I know he has another mother who would have given anything to have kept him and two more who mothered him when he was alone and most needed it, but I'm his now-mother, his everyday-mother, his forever-mother. I'm his mother. I no longer feel the need to qualify my motherhood. 

I've been looking back a lot as the one year anniversary of L joining our family came and went. Maybe it's the looking back that gives perspective. Perhaps it's got something to do with the one year mark.  Isn't that why one year old birthdays are such a huge deal to parents?  Because the first year is HARD and to have fumbled through it without major harm to baby or parents is surely something to celebrate. And, although I didn't start with a newborn, I feel pretty darn celebratory about making it through this year and coming out the other side feeling like a regular, normal parent. 

*We're still waiting for a finalization date for those who were wondering.  We've been told we should hear this week sometime about a few date possibilities.  

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, we got THE call. Of course at the time we didn't know it was THE call. It was another call in a series of raised hopes and false starts. In fact, that's what I titled that blog entry: Another One. We'd just passed on the opportunity to move forward with placement of a four year old boy due to lots of legal ugliness between DCF and the boy's foster mother. We were feeling a little down, secure in our choice, knowing it was the best one for us and for the little boy, but wondering if we'd ever get a call about a placement that felt right.

I was at school trying to get set up for the school year to start in a few weeks. DH called me and left a message that our family resource worker had called about a one-year old boy. It was a legal risk placement and we weren't sure how much risk was involved. There was some talk about a grandmother who wanted him which turned out to be a complete misunderstanding due to his foster mom at the time being called Granny.

We placed a call to the child's worker to get more information. And waited. And started fantasizing about a little one in our home. And wondered how much of our hearts we were willing to risk.

It turns out we were willing to risk everything. I'm so thankful we did, because down the hall there's a little boy napping who will wake up and call for Mama and I'm the one he's calling for. He's the light of my heart, my beautiful boy, my wonderful child, and we first heard he existed in the world, one year ago today.

Still

I know it's been too long since I've posted.  I guess my reluctance to write a new post has much to do with that I feel we're at a standstill.  There's not much new to share. I'm still totally in love with my son.  He's still the most amazing little boy I've ever met.  And. . .we're still waiting for a finalization date.  So far the timeline has moved from finalizing in June, to finalizing in July, to possibly finalizing in August, to likely finalizing in September. 

What's the hold up you ask?  Sadly, the hold up is the choice of L's adoption worker (yes, the one we love/loved?).  She's been holding off on submitting L's paperwork until the family of his older brother, P, gets a court date.  Which DH and I were fine with because P has been with them for going on three years and they went through a lot more ups and downs than we did. That is we were fine with it until just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong with P's case.  Paperwork was lost.  Lawyers were reassigned.  Some steps took many, many times longer than they should have.  Their paperwork was submitted in March and they still don't have a date.  Despite that the process has taken months longer for P's family than it should have, L's adoption worker is convinced it will only be a matter of weeks after the process is started for L until we hear about a court date. However, after much pleading and a tiny bit of harassment on our part, she has finally decided to begin the process for L.  

So now we wait.  Some more.  Again.  Still. 

To the rude mother at our recent adoptive families playgroup

Just for future reference, it's rude to make any kind of huffing/snorting sound when people are going around introducing themselves and their children.  Obviously, my son's name is new to you and perhaps it's not your favorite.  Hence, the "L_____ (repeating his name). Hmmph" response when I introduced him.  Your response should have been, ". . . . . . . . .".  Those dots symbolize silence. "Hi" would have been acceptable, too.  "Hmmph"---not acceptable.  

By the way, I held back my opinion in the interest of common courtesy, but your daughter's name, the name you changed her birthname name to, is a common stripper name.  Next time, you hmmph at my son's name, I'm going to share that info with you.  

TPR, Take 2

L's birthparents parental rights were terminated on Friday.  The parents were found to be unavailable rather than unfit. Death does tend to make one pretty much unavailable. Our social worker said that it's usually easier for kids in the long run if their birthparents are not found unfit.  We're going to talk more about that at our next appointment.  

So L is now officially legally free for adoption. Next step is getting our adoption paper work from L's worker, having it notarized, and submitting it to the court for a finalization date. We're still hoping for June.

TPR

Don't get too excited.  It hasn't happened yet.  However, we now have a date and a new lawyer who is appalled that it's taken so long to get a TPR decree for a case in which both parents are deceased and there are no family members interested.  April 2 is the court date.  Hopefully, she and our awesome social worker will walk out of court with decrees in hand. 

Speaking of our awesome social worker, she visited yesterday.  She's such a great resource.  I had some questions about family medical history.  We have minimal information and I hate to picture L at the doctor's office saying, "I don't know" in response to all the family medical history questions. I thought maybe since both L's biological mother, R, and father, J, were in state care at various points, there might be some additional information in their files.  Unfortunately, no such luck.  However, R has a sister who lives out of state and has completely separated herself from the family. She was the first person contacted about taking E when he came into care. She had no interest in rebuilding any connections with R and was very clear that she didn't want the boys.  Our social worker approached her again at various points throughout the years (when E's goal was changed to adoption, when L was taken into care, when R died, when L's goal was changed to adoption) and her answer has never changed.  Our social worker is going to try to get some medical history information from her. L's aunt has washed her hands of the family and may not want to talk about medical history, but at least it's a possibility. 

I'll admit that my first thought when I heard about the aunt was, "What if she wants the boys now?"  Our awesome social worker addressed my concerns before I spoke them and reassured me and DH that even if L's aunt expresses an interest, it's too late because she had numerous opportunities to take them and had very valid reasons for not doing so.  Awesome social worker said L has bonded with us, his third placement, and the court has accepted the adoption plan.  In fact, she said,"This is a done deal."  That's what I needed to hear.  However, I'm glad to know L has a more typical biological relative out there and I hope that maybe someday she'll be willing to meet him if he's interested. 

Awesome social worker and I also talked about lifebooks and discussing adoption with L (and how talking about adoption with a child adopted from foster care differs from talking about it with children adopted in other ways).  I'll share that discussion in my next post.  

Adopted vs. Biological

Why does the U.S. Government, via the Census, need to know whether my son is my adopted son or my biological son?  I know, I know.  They use it to determine funding for different programs. Perhaps they'll use it to decide whether to extend the Adoption Tax Credit.  

Even though I know why they ask, it still bugs me somehow. 

Well, at least I don't have to worry about that

I was talking with a good friend at work who has been having some weird period issues. She had recently been to the GYN and was filling me in on what the doctor said. Then she said, "Oh, yeah. Unrelated to my current issues, but it turns out my bladder is falling out."  

I had no idea this kind of thing happened.  She didn't either until her doctor told her it was happening to her.  Apparently, childbirth with vaginal delivery is the biggest risk factor. My friend, who birthed two children 18 months apart, has since heard from other women, including a friend whose mother actually reached down and felt her bladder coming out of her vajajay while she was in the middle of taking a shower!  

The only thing I could think was, "S&%#, that's one huge advantage to never getting pregnant. Score one point for infertility!"*

*At least until menopause.  The reduced estrogen of menopause can cause pelvic floor muscles to weaken and a cystocele to occur. Another reason to keep up those Kegels.  

Super Secret Special Ops

Frustrated with lots of bureaucratic runaround for the last 4 months, a couple of family members initiated a clandestine operation: Operation Death Certificate. It was successful, and really much easier than anticipated (and all completely legal).  J's death certificate showed up in L's worker's mailbox and is now in the judge's hands.  Now that the judge has proof that L's birthparents are both deceased, we're hoping for TPR news this week.