Mother's Day

First, can I just say that I can't believe this is my second Mother's Day already!! Time is flying! I couldn't remember what were we doing last year so I had to go search for some photos to see.
Oh yes, that's right. We spent it with my own mother.

My poor Pumpkin was just getting over croup. And I had only been a parent for a couple of months. Both of us were exhausted and out of sorts.



This year was so different! I am in a groove. My girl is healthy and happy. Although I didn't get up to visit my mom this year, it was still very enjoyable. Love you, Mom!! You are the best! You stay with us in our hearts, always. Your love and guidance and affection for me make it so easy to love my girl the right way so thank you!

Mother's Day 2011 was nice and low key. Becoming a mother was such a long time coming and it's such a joy to be included! I loved all the kind words expressed to me today, even from strangers. So nice to be recognized for simply being a mom! When Almi woke up this morning she wanted to get in bed with me and watch movies. While she was there we had our first real adoption conversation. She has heard about Ethiopia before because we include it in our prayers at night and I have told her before that she has a mommy in Ethiopia but I figured today was a good day to bring it up again. While she was lying next to me I reminded her that she has two mommies, one in Ethiopia and one here. She said, "Two mommies. One, two, three, four. One mommy!" I said, "Well, you have the mommy in Ethiopia who carried you in her belly but she couldn't take care of you anymore so I took a long plane ride to go get you so I could be your mommy." (I am not sure if that was the right thing to say so I may not use that phrase next time--she couldn't take care of you--I don't want to upset her with that fact. Note to self: read up on how to broach the adoption conversation with a toddler before bringing it up next time..). She made an airplane with her hand and some airplane sounds and asked me to join her. We flew airplanes around above us as we laid next to each other for the next minute or so. Then I continued, "So then I got on the airplane and I went to Ethiopia to get you so I could be your mommy!" What she did next astounded me. She said, "Look, Mommy! Diamond," and she showed me how she could make a diamond shape with her two hands together. Her birth name is Almaz, which means diamond! I don't know how she went from making an airplane to making a diamond but what an incredible thing to happen at that particular moment!

Later on we met my neighbor downtown at an outdoor Italian festival. The weather was gorgeous and Almi had a ton of fun playing and dancing with her friend, T. A low key, fun day, just spending time with my special girl.

Sometimes it Would Just Be Easier

I was so sensitive about the name thing the other day, that I couldn't bear to read any negative comments so I turned them off. I really couldn't handle any preachy adoptive parents telling me I shouldn't have changed her name in the first place.

I was just feeling sad--the way I get sometimes-- when I think about wanting Almi to be my biological child. I love that she's Ethiopian and it will be celebrated and honored and cherished. But if she were my biological child naming her would have been all my own. How I choose to raise her would be all my own. I wouldn't have to bother with all the formalities and paperwork and regulations that are required pre and post adoption. I wouldn't be stressing about readoption and passports and birth certificates. I would shed tears thinking about her birth family, her losses, her pain. I wouldn't wonder about her health history, if her relinquishment was legit, if she has siblings, if she is going to be angry about being adopted or if she is going to reject being part of my family one day. It would just be me and my kiddo.

Of course I love having been exposed to Ethiopian food and culture. I look forward to exploring more about where she is from and incorporating more Ethiopian customs and traditions into our lives. I love how I have an instant connection now with my Ethiopian friends, students, hairdresser, etc. I love being part of the wonderful community of adoptive parents. I love that a dream I had for thirty years was fulfilled. I love the uniqueness at how my family was created. I love that I have done something meaningful with my life. I love that my heart led me to having an Ethiopian daughter. I love her!!!

But, honestly sometimes I don't want to think about all that. Sometimes I just want to wake up and just be. Cause that sure would be a lot easier.

I'm Almi!

This evening I was playing around with Almi and asking her the questions I always ask her.

"Are you Mommy's pumpkin?" And she will nod or say yes.
"Are you Mommy's baby?" And she will nod or respond yes.
Then I say, "Where's Pumpkin?" and she will point to herself.
"Where's Mommy?" and she will point to me.
"Where's Naomi?" and she will point to herself.
"Where's Emmay?" and she will point to me.
"Where's Almi?" and she will point to herself.
"Where's Momma?" and she will point to me.

Well, tonight when I got to the "Where's Naomi?" she said, "No, Almi!"
I tried it again and again she insisted on only Almi.

The whole naming thing in international adoption is so hotly debated and I admit that I struggled with what to do. Families who adopt from Ethiopia, I find, largely keep the birth names whereas it appears that families who adopt from other countries have no second thoughts about changing the names.

I got pressure from both sides-- to keep her name and to change her name. And it was hard on me. But in the end, I decided to change her name from Almaz to Naomi Winter Almaz. I really, really wanted a part in naming her.

Often you hear how adoptive parents don't want to take yet another thing away a child who is losing so much as a reason for keeping their name. There is something to be said for that, but the interesting thing is you rarely hear that from parents who adopt infants. For some reason, parents of infants get a pass on the taking yet another thing away from the child. Almi was 19 months when I brought her home. I don't know how attached she was to her name or what they called her most often. Was it Almaz? Was it Almi? When I picked her up she barely said anything for weeks and certainly wasn't referring to herself as Almi but I decided to call her that while she got used to Naomi. Well, fast forward ten months she is used to Naomi, and occasionally calls herself that, but she really prefers or relates to Almi and it's no surprise why. I have been calling her Almi for months. And she may have heard it for years.

Thing is, I guess I always thought it was going to be a childhood nickname and that she would be Naomi Winter Almaz as an adult. I love how that sounds and I loved naming my daughter. I always thought she would be called Naomi by her friends and family at some point. I never really thought about when this would happen, especially since legally she's still Almaz Laura, but now suddenly I feel like she's telling me she doesn't want to be Naomi.

I know may not be the case.
I know she's only 2 and a half.
I know she says one thing one day and another thing the next.
I know I still feel some residual guilt about not wanting to keep Almaz as her first name.
I know I am extra sensitive about this.
And I know she may end up loving the name I gave her...

but for some reason hearing her say that today made me a little sad.

Being Thankful 2010

What are you thankful for this year?

My blessings this year are huge. Clearly, the most obvious one is I became a mother. This was a lifelong dream of mine and I got really, really lucky with my daughter. She is the light of my life and I am grateful.

But to be honest, this has been a rough year in a lot of ways.

The year started out with me working in a very unpleasant job situation.
I took off 2 months to bond with my daughter and it was unpaid.
Being a mother is exhausting and stressful and I worry about her all the time.
I dated someone for while who I thought had great long-term potential only to discover that he was not at all who he portrayed himself to be, which only continues to deepen my bitterness at being single. Where, pray tell, are the good men?! Am I truly destined to be single?
I live with constant, albeit manageable, pain and exhaustion. My doctor is confused since I test negative for everything.
I am far from family and have very little support.
In a nutshell, my house/relationships/health/future feel like they're in a constant state of chaos.


But I am slowly recovering and focusing on the good.


I got a new job. I'm still underpaid but I am happy there.
I put in a rental unit and expect it to be rented in the new year.
I wouldn't trade those two months with my daughter for anything. I believe they did wonders for our attachment.
I love being a mother.
God will bring me the right man for me at His time.
I am managing my health. If nothing else, I am being a good role model for my daughter.
I have made the decision to be responsible and make whatever makes sense financially for my family. If that means moving across the world to a country where I can afford live-in help, then so be it.


This Thanksgiving I will be surrounded by family. I will give thanks for them for they are truly wonderful in so many ways. I will thank God for being alive to experience all life has to offer. I will express thanks for my nice home, my job, my friends, my talents, my opportunities, my future. And I am beyond grateful for my daughter. She is amazing.

This Thanksgiving after dinner with family, in the intimacy of my parents living room, my cousin Chaz will lead our family in my daughter's baby dedication. It will be an time to formally declare that I am going to raise my daughter with a love of God and ask for His wisdom and grace in guiding me in this awesome responsibility. She is a gift and a child of God and that night I will be giving that gift back to God. One of the requests of her Ethiopian mom was that she be raised with a "fear of God." I am honored and grateful to be her mother and will do my best to raise her as she and He would see fit.

My house, the chaos, exhaustion, men, money.. yes, all are stressful and need my attention but for the rest of the year I am going to try to focus on my daughter and the joy this little girl brings me.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Adoption Books

Though I regularly add Ethiopia in our prayers at night, I am otherwise not very good at keeping Ethiopia alive in our home. Sure, we listen to Ethiopian music or watch videos from time to time and we eat Ethiopian food occasionally but I need to be better at keeping her connected to her country and culture. Now that she is getting older, I feel it is becoming more and more important. With talk of Ethiopia comes the natural progression of talking about adoption.

For a two year old (almost 2½ yr. old - gasp!) I think the best way is through books. Surprisingly, I realized that with all the books I have picked up for her I do not have any related to adoption. I looked on Amazon the other day for suggestions and these titles look good. Family, if you are reading, these would be good Christmas gifts for Almi (along with a really good quality black coat in size 3T!) :-D



Have you read any of these?
Are they any good?
Age-appropriate?
Are there any other ones you can recommend?

Thanks!

Important Dates to Note

I just realized that Almi has been home with me longer than she lived in orphanages. She was in two orphanages, one for one month and one for six months. She has been home for over eight months now which means she has lived at home with me longer!

She lived at home in Ethiopia with her first family for thirteen months. Thinking about that is so heartbreaking. To have to put your child into care after caring for her for 13 months... I can't imagine. I cry if I think about it too long. Sweet baby.

In March 2011 we will mark one year together.
And in May 2011 she will have been with me longer than with her first family.
Always and forever, little girl. Always and forever.

Being an AP

There are some curious things I have discovered about adoption and becoming a parent after 40 and trading in my fun single gal life for one of diapers and sippy cups. One is that no matter how prepared you think you are, you will be caught off guard by the things people say and do. If you are in the adoption process these tidbits may help prepare you and you may be better able to handle your responses than I was:

1. You can't complain. Oh no, don't complain about being tired or overextended or short on cash or overwhelmed because, uh, you asked for this. Somehow being a parent to a biological child earns you the right to say you're tired or stressed but when you adopt somehow that disappears and instead is viewed as weakness or ingratitude. One of my childless neighbors was heading out to a party on a Friday night and I wistfully said something about what a nice thing to do on a warm summer evening (as opposed to changing my 857th diarrhea-filled diaper) and my comment was met with something to the effect of 'Well, you created this life so deal with it.' Hmmm... ok. Yes, in fact I did. And I wouldn't trade my daughter in for a guaranteed Friday night party every night for a year, but considering I have only been out three times in almost five months means that well, dammit, I miss adult company and cocktails. Of course some people don't mind hearing complaints and will be supportive, but trust me on this.. the vast majority probably don't want to hear it.


2. You may not get a baby shower. I didn't. I have good friends and a loving, supportive family and they mentioned throwing me one but I never got a baby shower from friends or family. My job threw me one which was really, really nice but it did sting that no one close to me did. I think with a pregnancy everyone knows the arrival date and age of the child so it makes planning a shower a lot easier. They know they have until X date to get it done. With an adoption there is no definitive end date on the calendar so they think there will always be time and then suddenly you are a parent and it's out of their minds.

3. You will get a lot of unsolicited opinions and questions and comments. I have heard an earful and I didn't do a special needs adoption, adopt transracially, adopt out of birth order or adopt siblings. I know these groups of people probably get way more comments and opinions than I do but I still get comments all. the. time. Some don't bother me because I have said or thought some of those same things before I adopted. Others are valid. Some cut to the bone.

* How much did you pay for her?
* Why did her parents give her up?
* How do you know she was really relinquished ethically?
* Why didn't you just adopt right here in DC?
* You should adopt a baby to avoid (insert ailment, attachment issue, personality trait here)
* Why doesn't she talk as much as other kids her age?
* Couldn't you have biological children?
* Why didn't you get married and have kids? ...often followed by: What's wrong with you?
* She is so lucky.
* Why would I adopt when I can have my own?
* I'm not a fan of adoption.
* No one will date you with a child.
* Are you going to tell her she is adopted?
* Do you love her?

4. When you first become a parent, a lot people will disappear. Maybe they are giving you time to bond, maybe they think you don't want company or don't think you can get out, maybe they don't understand you in this new role, maybe they don't like/know how to relate to kids. You can't really blame them when they were used to you being like this:

I used to be fun, the life of the party, up for anything and people were used to that. Expect to feel rejected or lonely at first until people can wrap their minds around you now being a parent and forgive them for taking the time they need to figure out how to now relate to you.


5. You will be warmed by the kind things people say.
* Your daughter will be a blessing to you. Adoption is such a blessing and, yes, it may be hard now but you will be blessed beyond measure in your life together.
* You take care of your daughter now and raise her right as I know you are and she will be with you forever.
* You may not share biology but your child will share your likes and dislikes, your personality, you mannerisms, your beliefs, etc. and those things are just as important in bonding with your child as eye color.
* I am absolutely in love with your daughter!!
* You are a great mom.
* You two have a great bond.
* She is so happy. Good job!


6. People will do things to surprise you.
* offer great advice
* offer to babysit
* send gifts in the mail (even strangers!)
* offer to clean your house
* be a shoulder to cry on or allow you to complain
* prepare dishes of food
* pray for you and your child

Getting into a new role in life takes getting used to, not just for the one who assumed the new role but also for those around him or her. My road to single parenting was full of twists and turns and bumps and even after she arrived there were many rocky times as we adjusted to the newness of it all. Thanks to all of you who helped make it easier for me and to all of you who are making it easier for other new adoptive parents out there! Although we may be too tired to tell you, we appreciate it!

Forever Connected

One of the best parts about this adoption for me is I will be forever tied to Africa. Raising an Ethiopian child will be a realization of a dream that was conceived of when I was very young but a dream which has grown exponentially as I learned more about the continent and spent time traveling and living there.

I first went to Africa in 1981. My father had been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship and he chose to take our family to Nigeria where he could study and teach. I spent my junior year of high school in a boarding school, an international school run by missionaries. It was an incredible learning experience, not only because it was a welcome change from the uniforms and cliques of my private girls' school in Pennsylvania, but because it was there where I got my first taste of other cultures, other languages, other customs, traditions, values. The lessons I learned from my friends, my host families and living in Africa taught me far more than the lessons taught in my school. It was my first introduction to Africa and the beginning of my life-long love affair of its people, its rich culture and its beauty.

It was twenty-five years before I made it back. I went back in 2007, this time to Senegal. Touching down in Dakar was so exciting. I had planned the trip via email and when I arrived I wasn't sure if my friend would even be there to meet me. When my passport got confiscated by a gun-toting official (I didn't have an address for where I was staying) and I spent 45 minutes wandering around the airport looking for a friend I hadn't seen in eight years, my excitement turned to a mixture of fear and self-preservation. What would I do if she never showed up? I had decided I would spend the night in the airport and in the morning, in the daylight, I would befriend some English-speaking backpackers and hang with them for the next ten days (and, I suppose, at some point seek the help of the American Embassy). Those 45 minutes were filled with great anxiety and fear but I was also energized at the prospect of venturing around Senegal by myself and finding my own way. I have always had an adventurous side; I am a true free spirit. To me, it was an opportunity to do something exciting and different and I prepared myself for the challenge. That wasn't necessary as we did eventually find each other and I got my passport back. Even though my luggage never made it, my ten days in Dakar were still thrilling and energizing. Dakar brought back so many memories! The music, the Muslim call to prayer, the goats in the streets, the dark skin of its people, the sights, the sounds... my memories and love of Africa all came flooding back. I loved Dakar.

Last year I visited East Africa for the first time. Shortly after arriving in Ethiopia I experienced another airport scare, another 45 minutes or so of not being able to find my hosts. This trip was the same in that I had also scheduled it via the internet (after reading about the volunteer opportunity in an adoption brochure) but different in that this time I knew no one in the country. My mother was extremely worried about me traveling solo and staying with strangers, but I was confident that it was all on the up and up and that I'd be fine. I was right. Volunteering at Layla House through Adoption Advocates International was an incredible, life-changing, highly recommended experience. I remember distinctly walking up to the front door of the orphanage barely able to contain my excitement. I had just finished reading There Is No Me Without You and I was so beside myself with the anticipation of having the opportunity to actually volunteer in a place like I had just read about. I hope I get that same feeling of anticipation when I arrive at the door of the orphanage when I am there to meet my daughter.

Ethiopia has some similarities to Nigeria and Senegal but the poverty seems far greater and the first things you notice when you leave the airport are the bumpy, unpaved roads and the thick diesel smell in the air. Ethiopia took longer to love, but by the end of my month of volunteering I was hooked. Knowing my child will be from this amazing country is so incredible!

This weekend I watched I Bring What I Love, a documentary about the life and music of Youssou N'Dour, a Senegalese musician. It was an incredible film of a man's love for his faith, his country and his music. While watching the film I was brought to tears with not only seeing someone live their life authentically and with passion but also as I was reminded once again of my deep love for the continent, the music, the people.

As N'Dour put it, 'Africa's various languages, tribes, cultures and traditions shouldn't be considered barriers but contributions to the richness of the continent'. I couldn't agree more. Each place I have visited has it's own richness and beauty and I am so grateful for the opportunity to add to the richness of the fabric of my family by becoming the mother of an African child. Oh Africa, how I love you and how humbled I am to have the opportunity to raise one of your own.

Single Parenting Revisited

Isn't this dress just the cutest?! It's so unique.. looks French to me. I found it at a thrift shop, of course, and paid less than $4.00 for it. I love it! But check this out.. it's a size 4T. I am no longer buying anything under a 2T. This month alone I have had four new parents tell me how incredibly difficult raising an infant or parenting solo is and their comments are starting to freak me out!

Here's a sampling from the year...

* This sh!t is hard. I don't know how you are going to do it as a single parent.
* Don't have a biological child because infants are so much work. Stick with adoption so you can start with a child a bit older.
* I wish I had known I would be stuck with this baby attached to me all day long. I wish I could put her back up inside of me.
* Don't have a child. You will no longer have a life.
* The adoption process is hell.. but no one tells you that that is really the easy part.
* My daughter is hard work!
* Hire a baby nurse (yeah right ~ I wish!) because you are going to need a break.

I never thought single parenting was going to be rainbows and ponies and I know that without a huge support group in place I'm asking for exhaustion and frustration. Well, the fact of the matter is I don't have a huge support group in place. Nor do I have any family in the area. As fun as it is to buy cute clothes-- and as excited as I am about finally becoming a mom-- I must admit that I am scared out of my mind.

I am a worrier by nature but when my concerns involve another human being, this beautiful Ethiopian child, the worrying goes up 10,000 notches. I ask myself, am I right to try to do this by myself? Shouldn't I be making more money? Will we attach to each other? Those are normal concerns I suspect, but it makes me sad that on top of those I'm worried that I won't be able to fully enjoy it. Parenting. Doing it solo.

I have always known that I wanted to be a mother and I have always known I would adopt but in all my dreams I never pictured doing it alone. That thought never even entered my mind. My dream was always to be a happily married stay at home mom until my kids got to kindergarten. I always saw myself as the type of mom who made homemade baby food, took tons of pictures and kept detailed scrapbooks of her children; the mom who would take long walks around the neighborhood and visit with other parents on the playground. I saw myself creating elaborate themed birthday parties with homemade invitations and cakes. I saw myself creating Bento box meals, reading lots of books and doing lots of crafts. I saw those first five years as being full of joy and wonder as I watched my child grow.

That is not going to be my experience and I am sad about that. I am trying to remain faithful that this is my path and to not question it, but it's still hard to accept. I want to be a mother so I am going to be a mother and I am already filled with love for this child; I can't wait to bring her into my life... but I am going it alone so there won't be the option of being a stay at home mom. And although we will read books and do crafts, I doubt I'll have the time or energy for elaborate scrapbooks and homemade baby food. As time goes by the fear grows, my confidence wanes. The comments from friends and family and the reality of the situation are weighing down on me and muddling my clarity. If only I were married or had a support group or a million dollars...

When I am open and share my concerns the responses fall on both sides of the fence. Some people are excited and supportive and understanding. Others tell me straight out that I shouldn't continue with the process. That hurts a lot. I'm worried, yes, and it's scary because there are so many unknowns but I would never just say forget it. I know it will all work out in the end, that everything really is going along as planned. I'm just finding it hard knowing that I only get two short months with my girl before I'll be back at work and forced to juggle it all. I am so excited about creating a family and becoming a mom I am just acutely aware of how different it is from how I had dreamed.

Single Black Women Adopting

I saw this article on CNN.com and, man, can I relate! I, too, wonder how it is that marriage has so far eluded me. I tried to do everything the right way: education, fun, life experience, growth, maturity, financial and emotional security and then marriage and children. But, alas, now that I am ready (uh, and have been for the last decade!) I can't seem to find him. Clearly, there is no right way and I obviously don't have a say in God's plan for me. Ha! Well, it's good to know I am not alone...

Single black women choosing to adopt

updated 1:01 p.m. EDT, Wed July 1, 2009

By John Blake
CNN

(CNN) -- Wendy Duren thought she did everything right.

She broke off relationships with men who didn't want to settle down. She refused to get pregnant out of wedlock. She prayed for a child.

Duren's yearning for motherhood was so palpable that her former fiancé once offered to father a child with her. But he warned her that he wasn't ready for marriage.

"I get bored in relationships after a couple of years," he told her, she recalls.

Those events could have caused some women to give up their dreams of motherhood. But Duren, a pharmaceutical saleswoman, didn't need a man to be a mom. At 37 years old, she decided to adopt.

"It's the best decision I could have made in my life," Duren says, two years later. She's now the mother of Madison, a 1-year-old daughter she raises in Canton, Michigan.

"People say I have never seen you so happy," she says, "but it's also the hardest thing I've ever done."

Click HERE to read the entire article.

My Time at Kidane Mehret

When I was in volunteering in Ethiopia, I spent an afternoon at Kidane Mehret (the orphanage mentioned in yesterday's post and pictured above). It was a really difficult afternoon. I met a child there who, I was told, had just recently arrived. I don't know what her story was or how she ended up at KM but she was a beautiful little girl with a head of dark curls, about 6. She was very shy but would let a smile slip out from time to time. She enjoyed having her picture taken and by the end of the afternoon would sit close to me or right on my lap and just smile and smile. I can't imagine how she must have been feeling, recently orphaned and surrounded by strangers and not speaking a word of Amharic. She is on my lap in this photo.


I also met a set of 12 year old boy/girl twins. I played soccer with the boy for a bit and after awhile he felt comfortable and sat down to speak with me. I was blown away at how polite he was an that he spoke impeccable English. After talking for awhile, he learned that I was planning to adopt. After a few more questions he inquired about what age child I wanted. When he learned I was thinking of an infant girl, the look on his face told me he had had this conversation before. He was way too polite to say what was on his mind but I knew he wondered why the babies were always chosen. He then uttered words I will never forget. He said, "When you go back to America can you help me and my sister find a family?" At that moment I was cursing not being married cause it would be so much easier to adopt 12 year old twins with a spouse but I knew I couldn't do it as a single woman. I did promised him though that I would try to find them a family. When I got back to the States I did bring them up to a couple of friends of mine and hoped they would be interested but I was unable to truly fulfill his request. I still feel guilty about that. I wonder where he and his sister are.

We spent some time playing outside with the older kids and then went up to the nursery to visit the babies. The nursery was a small room with rows and rows of metal cribs filled with sweet, adorable babies. Some were sleeping; others were just staring out into space waiting for someone to notice them. It was as if they learned that crying wouldn't bring any comfort so why bother? It was eerily quiet. I remember speaking to a very kind nun, also with excellent English. In just the hour or so I visited with her I could tell she was a loving, kind soul-- dedicating her life to taking care of these orphans.

The hardest part of the day by far, though, was seeing a little girl with what appeared to be hydrocephalus. Her head must have been 3x the normal size and she was lying on a counter unable to sit up or move around. She was facing a blank, white wall but every now and then a nun would come by and speak to her or rub her belly or smooth down her hair. They clearly cared for her but there were simply not enough nuns on staff to attend to her every need. Absolutely heartbreaking. The image of her lying there was etched in my mind for a long, long time-- the extreme unfairness of it all. No family, no healthcare, no one to attend to her needs and keep her comfortable and happy and entertained. No one to sing to her or teach her things. No joy. Just lying on her back, day in, day out. I was told that a family wanted to adopt her but since they weren't sure she would survive the flight she was not cleared for adoption. I think we all knew they were just keeping her comfortable until she passed away.

Article on Loss

I came across this article a couple of years ago and thought it was interesting. Now that I have taken the required classes and done additional reading on grief and loss it makes the importance of bonding with my new baby that much clearer. Just more fuel for the burning inferno that is my maternity leave. As you can imagine I'm still trying to figure out a way to take off as much time as possible to be with my daughter. A Different Perspective

Immense Loss; Walk a Mile in Baby’s Booties

Imagine for a moment…

You have met the person you've dreamed about all your life. He has every quality that you desire in a spouse. You plan for the wedding, enjoying every free moment with your fiancée. You love his touch, his smell, the way he looks into your eyes. For the first time in your life, you understand what is meant by "soul mate," for this person understands you in a way that no one else does. Your heart beats in rhythm with his. Your emotions are intimately tied to his every joy, his every sorrow.

The wedding comes. It is a happy celebration, but the best part is that you are finally the wife of this wonderful man. You fall asleep that night, exhausted from the day's events, but relaxed and joyful in the knowledge that you are next to the person who loves you more than anyone in the world…the person who will be with you for the rest of your life.

The next morning you wake up, nestled in your partner's arms. You open your eyes and immediately look for his face.

But IT'S NOT HIM! You are in the arms of another man. You recoil in horror. Who is this man? Where is your beloved?

You ask questions of the new man, but it quickly becomes apparent that he doesn't understand you. You search every room in the house, calling and calling for your husband. The new guy follows you around, trying to hug you, pat you on the back,...even trying to stroke your arm, acting like everything is okay.

But you know that nothing is okay. Your beloved is gone. Where is he? Will he return? When? What has happened to him?

Weeks pass. You cry and cry over the loss of your beloved. Sometimes you ache silently, in shock over what has happened. The new guy tries to comfort you. You appreciate his attempts, but he doesn't speak your language-either verbally or emotionally. He doesn't seem to realize the terrible thing that has happened...that your sweetheart is gone.

You find it difficult to sleep. The new guy tries to comfort you at bedtime with soft words and gentle touches, but you avoid him, preferring to sleep alone, away from him and any intimate words or contact.

Months later, you still ache for your beloved, but gradually you are learning to trust this new guy. He's finally learned that you like your coffee black, not doctored up with cream and sugar. Although you still don't understand his bedtime songs, you like the lilt of his voice and take some comfort in it.

More time passes. One morning, you wake up to find a full suitcase sitting next to the front door. You try to ask him about it, but he just takes you by the hand and leads you to the car. You drive and drive and drive. Nothing is familiar. Where are you? Where is he taking you?

You pull up to a large building. He leads you to an elevator and up to a room filled with people. Many are crying. Some are ecstatic with joy. You are confused. And worried.

The man leads you over to the corner. Another man opens his arms and sweeps you up in an embrace. He rubs your back and kisses your cheeks, obviously thrilled to see you.

You are anything but thrilled to see him. Who in the world is he? Where is your beloved? You reach for the man who brought you, but he just smiles (although he seems to be tearing up, which concerns you), pats you on the back, and puts your hand in the hands of the new guy. The new guy picks up your suitcase and leads you to the door. The familiar face starts openly crying, waving and waving as the elevator doors close on you and the new guy.

The new guy drives you to an airport and you follow him, not knowing what else to do. Sometimes you cry, but then the new guy tries to make you smile, so you grin back, wanting to "get along." You board a plane. The flight is long. You sleep a lot, wanting to mentally escape from the situation.

Hours later, the plane touches down. The new guy is very excited and leads you into the airport where dozens of people are there to greet you. Light bulbs flash as your photo is taken again and again. The new guy takes you to another guy who hugs you. Who is this one? You smile at him. Then you are taken to another man who pats your back and kisses your cheek. Then yet another fellow gives you a big hug and messes your hair.

Finally, someone (which guy is this?) pulls you into his arms with the biggest hug you've ever had. He kisses you all over your cheeks and croons to you in some language you've never heard before.

He leads you to a car and drives you to another location. Everything here looks different. The climate is not what you're used to. The smells are strange. Nothing tastes familiar, except for the black coffee. You wonder if someone told him that you like your coffee black.

You find it nearly impossible to sleep. Sometimes you lie in bed for hours, staring into the blackness, furious with your husband for leaving you, yet aching from the loss. The new guy checks on you. He seems concerned and tries to comfort you with soft words and a mug of warm milk. You turn away, pretending to go to asleep.

People come to the house. You can feel the anxiety start to bubble over as you look into the faces of all the new people. You tightly grasp the new guy's hand. He pulls you closer. People smile and nudge one other, marveling at how quickly you've fallen in love. Strangers reach for you, wanting to be a part of the happiness.

Each time a man hugs you, you wonder if he will be the one to take you away. Just in case, you keep your suitcase packed and ready. Although the man at this house is nice and you're hanging on for dear life, you've learned from experience that men come and go, so you just wait in expectation for the next one to come along.

Each morning, the new guy hands you a cup of coffee and looks at you expectantly. A couple of times the pain and anger for your husband is so great that you lash out, sending hot coffee across the room, causing the new guy to yelp in pain. He just looks at you, bewildered. But most of the time you calmly take the cup. You give him a smile. And wait. And wait. And wait.

--Written by Cynthia Hockman-Chupp, analogy courtesy of Dr. Kali Miller

Bad Dream

I had a dream last night. Or maybe it was a nightmare. I woke up with my face still twisted up in pain and my mouth contorted as if silent screams were emanating from deep within.

I dreamt that I got text message from my father. It said, "Congratulations, Mommy. She is so beautiful." I called him right away because at this point I hadn't seen my child. (somehow I knew in the dream he wasn't referring to a photograph). When I called him I discovered he and my mom and my sister had gone to Ethiopia and picked up my child and were caring for her back home. They said they were trying to be helpful because they knew I had to work. I was sick to my stomach. Sick because they got to experience the first meeting at the care center; sick because they got to hold her first; sick because at this point it had been about a week and I was sure my child had bonded to them.

Is it obvious that bonding time with my child is on my mind? Becoming a new mom is when it really sucks to be American. As you can imagine, my maternity benefits are not enviable. Sure, I can take loads of time off--in fact my contract states they will save my job for up to 3 years, but of course this three years is unpaid. Being single, that benefit isn't terribly useful. I was talking to a Canadian friend of mine the other day. She has a newborn at home so I asked her what her paid maternity leave was like and she casually said, "Oh, it's about a year." A year? Really? Really. She gets 15 weeks maternity, paid, and then an additional 35 weeks parental benefits, paid. Yup, that's about a year. I knew Europeans had it good, but Canadians, too?

I'm wondering, how much time should I be taking off? I'd love to take a year but that's not an option. Six months is not really an option either. I imagine my daughter will be somewhere between 6-18 months when I bring her home. For the smoothest transition, to build trust, to ensure bonding how much time do you think I need?

Snow Day!

Yay! A snow day today! The best thing about being a teacher! (is that a problem?!)
Meanwhile, I have strep throat.

I called in sick Monday and Tuesday so at least I only have to use one day of leave now. I really should be saving up those days for when my little one comes home... although I'm really not sure how that works anyway. Do I get to use sick days for materinty leave? Do I even get maternity leave if I haven't worked there a year? Can I extend FMLA if I don't feel like we've bonded enough? Hmmm... things I clearly need to figure out!

HeeHee

I'm thankful today for this humorous cartoon!!!

NaBloPoMo #10 theme:thankful

I Got Nothin'

OMG--for the past two hours I have been trying to think of something to post and I swear, I got nothin' (to quote one of my students when he doesn't know the answer-heh). Truthfully, I am a bit down about the whole adoption situation. I want to sign on with another agency and have my daughter home by next Christmas-that is the goal-but I have no idea if that will happen. Tonight, one of my friends (a single mom to a toddler) said, "My mom thinks that you need to rethink this whole adoption thing. I mean, do you really want to do this? It's hard work! You need to know that it's not all fun, that most of the time you will be exhausted and stressed..." blah, blah, blah. (I stopped listening at that point). I feel bad now, but I couldn't help but snap at her and point blank ask her if what she was saying was she wished her daughter had never been born. Of course she couldn't say that and finally stop her ranting but it really upset me. (I guess I was upset to begin with so this really didn't help). I don't know, maybe I'm reaching here, but I equate it to telling a pregnant woman, 'Are you sure you want to have the child? Maybe you should go get an abortion'. No one would dare say that to a 43 year old woman, but when it comes to adoption people say things and don't think about how they come across. So after I put her in her place I went home and made some spaghetti and ate it in silence like I often do. I usually eat while reading so my house is extremely quiet. I know I should be grateful for these quiet times but really all I want right now is a rambunctious toddler running around making me laugh. (I know, I'll probably be eating my words next year looking at these days wistfully. lol).

So, in keeping with the theme of thankful, though, I have to dig deep today.

...I'm still diggin' and still I got nothin'.

OK, I got it. I am thankful for having a forum to vent my frustrations. There.

Tomorrow will be better. I promise.

NaBloPoMo #8 theme: thankful

Nicole Kidman

OK, I usually am not bothered by these things, but this article (Parade, 10/30/08) really rubbed me the wrong way. Some of the things she said are so insensitive! Did she not have a purpose before? Were Bella and Connor not gifts?! I don't know; maybe it's just me. Read on... (italics and bolding mine)

'I've been given a gift'

By James Kaplan

Publication Date: 11/02/2008

Nicole Kidman is tall—much taller than you’d expect. Shoeless, she stands close to 6 feet; in heels, the sky’s the limit. In addition, her contours are roughly those of a pipe cleaner. “I’d love to look like Sophia Loren,” she says with a sigh. Kidman is in London with Loren filming a small role in the movie musical Nine. “Sophia is drop-dead gorgeous. And as curvaceous as they come—still. Do I look like that? No.”

No. The 41-year-old star and I are talking in her hotel near Buckingham Palace. With her hair pulled back, and wearing jeans, black boots, a man’s striped dress shirt, and a sleeveless sweater, Kidman looks more handsome than the drop-dead gorgeous she has been in so many films. In her latest movie, the epic Australia, due out Nov. 26, Kidman plays an uptight English lady of the 1930s, but in real life, she speaks in the flat tones of her native Sydney, Australia, and has a humor to match. “Part of being Australian is being able to make fun of myself,” she says, “because if I can’t do that, then someone else is going to do it for me.”

Kidman has been in the spotlight for close to 20 years, and it’s often been rough territory to navigate. Her 1990 marriage to Tom Cruise, his embrace of Scientology, their adoption of two children (Isabella and Connor), and their 2001 divorce made international news. Maybe, when Kidman married country singer (and fellow Australian) Keith Urban in June 2006, she thought she’d left the tabloids behind for a while. But four months after the wedding, Urban checked himself into rehab. Then, last July, Kidman gave birth to her first child, daughter Sunday Rose. Suddenly the long lenses were back, behind every bush and mailbox.

The new mother has reacted intensely with “whatever that primal thing is, the need and desire to keep her very protected,” Kidman says. “People say, ‘Oh, it would be so much easier if you’d just let them get a photo of her.’ And I can’t. I’m like, ‘I don’t want to. I want her to stay out of that.’ Maybe that will wane as she gets bigger, and I’ll be easier with it. But for now, I’m still keeping her in a bubble.” Her eyes turn red and moist.

“I’m raw and emotional,” Kidman admits. “I cry even thinking of her. But they are tears of joy. Because I suppose I never thought I would get to have it. To have been given it so late in life—I’m so ready for it. And I think giving birth to a child, as a woman, is what we’re born to do. I don’t mean that to sound sexist, because many women don’t get to do it, and I thought I was one of them. But at the same time, if you are given that gift, it’s an extraordinary thing.”

On the other hand, Kidman says, “It’s very bittersweet. Because, at 41, I think, ‘I want to see her 21st birthday, and I want to see her get married.’ My relationship with death used to be far more ambivalent, I think, and now it’s very much about staying in the world. That’s why in the past I could jump out of planes and take a lot of risks. Strangely enough, I think when you have children at 25, you still have that ‘what will be, will be’ attitude. It’s such a different way of parenting. Bella and Connor were very free and easy, probably because they had parents who were very young and jumping around the world and pretty easygoing.” Kidman and Cruise share custody of their adopted children and, as she confirms, they were raised in Scientology. When the subject comes up, though, Kidman stiffens. “I just don’t talk about it,” she says.

What she’d clearly prefer to discuss is the present. “Bella and Connor are 15 and 13, so we’ve taken them, Tom and I, almost into their adult life. To then have a birth child that I have to take into adult life, give her her wings, it’s a big purpose. I know my place. Put it that way.” She suddenly laughs boisterously. “I like knowing my place, though. I feel grounded with it.”

I ask Kidman what her new daughter is like. Can she tell so far? “Well, I’m her mother, so she’s special!” she exclaims. “I’m devoted. I’m totally devoted to her.”

She’s also devoted to Urban. The baby looks like him, Kidman tells me. “I’m glad, because when he goes on tour, I say to him that he leaves a little bit of him with me.”

Separations have always been hard for her. “I was the child who would lie awake at night when my mom went to work, and I’d cry, scared she wasn’t coming home,” she recalls. “It’s why, I suppose, in my relationships as well, I get very attached and fiercely protective, fiercely loyal. It takes me a long time, and once I do, that’s it.”

When Nicole was 17, her mother, a registered nurse, was diagnosed with breast cancer. “That shook our household to the core,” she says. “I think it probably still reverberates through both my sister and me. She’s 25 years in remission, which is an extraordinary story. But it somehow takes a grasp of your heart and does something. Which is life. As my mom said, ‘Life is not easy. It’s nitty-gritty, and you get in it and get your hands dirty and live it.’ ”

With Kidman’s marriage to Urban, the nitty-gritty turned up sooner than either of them expected. “We were thrown into his alcohol problem three months into the marriage, and that was big,” she says. “We became the closest we could become, because we had to bare our souls. We did 10 years of marriage in three months. You go to hell and back with this—when the addiction takes control of the life, it’s terrifying. But there is hope, and we work on it every day, and we are in a place of actual peace right now, which is a beautiful place. I love him so deeply, and he has done an amazing amount of work, and he is an amazing husband, and I am just very, very grateful. I think we are both in a place of humility.”

When she was younger, Kidman says, she was “a little disconnected. Now my ability to notice things and respond to things and be here is far more profound. With that comes happiness, with it comes sadness.” She smiles. “But it’s a beautiful life.”