Part 4- I’m a MOM! or How A Nooner Saved Us $10K

Awe, how sweet infertile couple adopts a son and all is peachy keen. It’s like a damn sitcom, huh? Yeah, this story isn’t over yet, not even close.

Little Man came home with us and I learned how to be a Mom. I’m an only child; obviously I had no siblings, no real younger kids around me. Yeah, I have younger cousins, but I was not involved in day to day babyhood with them. This was a brand new ball game. I was never a baby person, babies scared me. They wiggled, cried, pooped, I had no idea what to do. I was always terrified I’d drop the poor kid. I always teased that Jeff was the baby whisper, and once they walked I’d take over. Or I’d joke that once I had a baby of my own, I’d hold it and such. But, if I broke/dropped my baby, that was my bad, I didn’t want to break another Mom’s kid! Lucky for me, Little Man was too young to realize I had no idea what I was doing. But, he was fed, he slept, he was entertained, he was happy and he was MINE.

Since things were so hush-hush, I never had a traditional baby shower, but we did have a Welcome Home party. Everyone got to come and meet Little Man. I made a secret baby registry; I researched things like Pee-Pee T-Pees and BPA free things. I did what I did, if I did not know about it I researched. I’m geeky that way, it’s a very endearing quality I have.

So, at this time Little Man was not ours “free and clear.” Actually, it took his birth parents about a week to sign all the proper paperwork to terminate their rights, so we were officially his foster parents. Once rights were terminated, we were finally his prospective adoptive parents. Phew.

Little Man and I scheduled a dinner with D about 2 weeks after he was born. Holy cow, she went from 9 months pregnant to a size 2 in 2 weeks. She looked awesome. We met at a local Fridays. We caught up and chatted, all was well. We played “pass the baby” and took pictures. As we finished up our meal, a lady at the table next to us spoke up. She said, “Aw, cute baby. Whose is it?” It was too early in the game, I had not developed my ‘keep your nose out of my business’ stare. I blatantly said, “Both of ours.” Which led to a quizzical stare, I should have simply left it at that. But, I explained – D was the Birth Mother and I was the Adoptive Mom. Apparently that news was stunning enough as Miss Nosey was speechless. D and I quietly walked out.

I learned pretty quickly that I wanted the “adoptive” part to be Little Man’s story to tell (and here I am blogging about it – duh Kim- you are oversharing!) . It’s not mine to share with the world, well it is, but I don’t have to. He’s my Little Man, enough said.

Fall arrived; Jeff and I just had a blast with this new little person. Little by little we got baby furniture for his room, had a mural painted for him, filled in all those missing pieces. He wasn’t leaving, so let’s allow Babys-R-Us to EXPLODE in our home.

We met Little Man’s birth parents and birth grandmothers for dinner in late October. Dinner was nice, and Little Man ONLY wanted Mommy or Daddy. Birth Mother or Father picked him up, he wailed, same with the grandparents. Little Man bonded with us, he knew who is REAL parents were at only 3 months. We were secretly elated and simultaneously saddened as we knew this was not the visit they all hoped for. At some point this month, I also remember commenting to Jeff and I have been “drug free” (fertility drugs that is) for over a year (Kim pumps fist into the air). I felt great; I was free of all that crap. I had my son, screw you infertility. At that point we also decided to no longer store our 2 totcicles (the 2 embryo’s we had frozen from IVF#2). If we wanted child #2, we would consider either a fresh cycle or possible adoption again. We did not know if Little Man would ever have a sibling. Remember I’m an only child and I’m OK. Geeze, why the stupid stigma?

Jeff and I still had a few months of monthly social work visits; our adoption with Little Man would not be final until January of 2009. It’s a 6 month process in our state.

Funny aside here – When we had our formal Home Study and first monthly visit, the house was spotless. Jeff and I were dressed in our casual preppy church wearing gear, looking right out of the J Crew catalog. By our 3^rd monthly visit, I had projectile vomit in my hair and on my shirt, Jeff had on his work clothes, the house was in chaos- you know like new parents of a 3 month old should be. It was like on “The Real World,” when we “stopped being nice and started being real.”

Our social worker even had the audacity to even suggest we consider using “protection.” Yeah, right. It’s been 7 years since we used anything like that, as if!! Hello, we have sperm/egg issues. My party girls don’t like his “stuff,” I doubt they start liking it now. As if having a 3 month old in the house, WITH a pending adoption, causes one to relax. Not.so.much. That social worker- she’s a funny lady.

Halloween, Little Man was a lobster. AND YES, like every good parent I placed my child in a big stock pot with Old Bay and a Lobster cookbook next to it. Then proceeded to take a boat load of pictures! Thanksgiving was great; he was a perfect little turkey!!

In December, my dear, dear friend and her husband traveled to see us for a weekend. She too had some fertility issues. We agreed it sucked, but we also both were excited that I kicked infertility and became a parent my way. It was a weekend full of food and lots of drinks. But, weird thing, that red wine just didn’t taste quiet right.

That Monday, my friend and I emailed, her monthly friend came to visit, and I realized mine had not. Whatever, it comes it goes, it never skips a visit. Huh. The next day, I had an eye doctor appointment. I was looking for something under my sink and ran across and old pregnancy test. I thought, I take this and Aunt Flow will be knocking at my door within the hour. That is how it always works. I took it, set it down and wondered off. Came back to look at it. Looked again, and then made sure it wasn’t accidentally an ovulation predictor stick. Huh, interesting. There are 2 lines. That one looks sorta dark. This test thinks I’m pregnant. No way. It must be a false positive, I’m infertile and I have a 4 month old. No way. Huh, well maybe. Let’s not overreact, let’s get another test on my way back from the eye doctor. I sent a picture to Jeff of the test, his text back was “are you ovulating or something.” Uh, no, this test seems to think I might be knocked up. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

Woah, Nelly… I picked up a few more tests, and tests 2 thru 8 said, yes indeed I seem to be mysteriously carrying extra HCG in my body, meaning I was pregnant. Confused, elated, overjoyed, scared shitless and dumbfounded pretty well describe my state of mind. Yeah, Hi, um, I’m infertile and have a 4month old on my hip, how exactly can I be PG? Hello? Someone, please explain this to me. I mean, seriously, we spent how much with medical science to become parents and instead we got our hearts broken. Umm, I did the “baby dance” at the right times, then sat there for 30minutes with a pillow under my hips WILLING Jeff’s dudes to find an egg –NOTHING. Apparently, you must be semi-sleep deprived, find an extra 10minutes for romance, and then go back to work. I’m sorry but that was NOT in any “Fighting Infertility” books I read, or on any message boards I frequented. I’m pretty sure that’s not very scientific, that my friend, is a mixture of dumb luck and belated answered prayers. Hence the “how a nooner saved me $10K.”

Like any dumbfounded lady who found out she was *surprise* pregnant. I called my OB/GYN. The lady answered the phone and said, “Oh well, we can get you an appointment in mid-January.” A month away- NO. Kim: “No, that will not work. You don’t understand I’m INFERTILE. I’ve done countless IUI’s and IVF’s that did not work. I cannot wait a month; I need a beta drawn now to even see if this pregnancy is viable. No, there HAS to be something sooner.” Appointment Lady: “Please hold.” Ughghg, while on hold this is what I’m thinking. Look lady, I’m not normal, this is SERIOUSLY a miracle like Fatima. Grant it, I have not seen the image of the Blessed Virgin, nor have 3 kids bowed down before me- but THIS ranks up there with the Immaculate Conception. Seriously, I will not wait 4 weeks…. Appointment Lady: “We pulled your chart, Dr. F wants to see you FRIDAY (in 3 days).” Sign me up, appointment made.

I swear Friday took about 3 weeks to arrive. We arrived at the appoint with Connor in his car seat. The doc and his nurse crack up at the irony of it all, so glad that was not lost on them. They do the Beta, he does an exam, and it is confirmed. I’m pregnant, numbers look good. I tell the story of IVF #2 and how that ended, knowing my paranoia, Dr. F agreed to an Ultrasound (U/S) in 2 weeks. That is right after Christmas….

We spill our secret to the same close family and friends with STRICT instructions to keep their yaps shut as to not jinx my uterus. It was a Christmas miracle, a la The Brady Bunch (remember when Mrs. Brady sang when the retirement home collapsed and trapped Mike. Her singing gave him strength to free himself – or something like that). Obviously, I had to tell Irena the Yoga lady, as I did not want to squish this little multi-celled alien living in me. She understood the “shhh” factor on this and was a willing participant to help me continue my yoga safely.

The 2 weeks passed at it was U/S time; Jeff and I were both terrified. Again we also had our Little Man with us. Ultrasound Lady did her thing (and NO all those people on TV that have Ultrasounds abdominally like at 2 seconds pregnant are WRONG- that doesn’t happen until after 12 weeks- stupid incorrect TV shows!!!). Again, Jeff and I found ourselves in a room with the dildo cam the internal ultra-sound do-hickey. I laid there thinking, “see a fetal pole, see a gestational sac, see LIFE!” I held my breath; she takes measurements and goes, “Look at that a little heart beat.” Tears sting my eyes, a heart beat, it’s only 5w6d (5weeks, 6 days); can that be? We visit the doc, he’s concerned the heartbeat is a little slow, so U/S in 2 more weeks. Thanks to Dr. Google, I learn seeing a heart beat so early can happen. It seems this little beings heart JUST started beating. Wow, this little one wanted to live and to show us that “it” was alive.

--January 2009—

We did not tell our social worker a WORD about expecting. We were too terrified it could mess up something with Little Man’s finalization. But, all our visits and paperwork was complete. Adoption Day would be January 27, 2009 – 2 days after my birthday – 367days after D and I originally met.

We decided to call “it” SeaMonkey. It’s a good enough in-utero name. So, SeaMonkey’s next U/S showed an even stronger heart beat. Next decision was did we want any pre testing to test for possible birth defects or test for possible downs syndrome or other genetic anomalies. Nope. This SeaMonkey broke all the rules to get here, if SM (SeaMonkey) is born with 2 heads and 16 fingers, so be it. That was our decision, baby is either healthy and all is well, or we will deal with issues if they present themselves. Again, God didn’t give me a check list on what kind of kids I could handle. We were willing to accept anything.

By birthday came and I was sick. The first trimester was evil, smells killed me, brushing my teeth was the worst. I had to stop giving Little Man certain baby food due to the stench (peas and green beans literally made me green). I was tired. But, guess what, I had a little 6 month old to chase around! It was exhausting and super fun all at the same time. Then came Adoption Day.

Jeff and I and all our parents had planned to attend court that day. However, Mother Nature had a different plan. Snow, sleet, ice – a massive winter storm shut down the city. Curse you Mother Nature you will NOT take this away from me. We kept watching the city closings, but City Hall and our courts were open, by God we WILL make it even if I have to shovel my way there. Unfortunately, the weather kept my Dad and our Social Worker from making it. But, we were there, our lawyer was there and the magistrate was there – the key players. After answering some questions, it was official, Connor was ours. He’s my son; no one can take him away - EVER. To celebrate we all went to breakfast, no it wasn’t at IHOP. The next day, the city was shutdown with that Winter Storm. And we were a family, all snuggled in. Next up, let’s baptize that kid.

February brought Little Man’s baptism. D and her family even attended. Go Open Adoption! It was tough for her, the priest did a prayer for the mother and father, which I think hearing those words out loud, stabbed her in the heart a little. I could feel her pain. Little Man’s baptism also marked 12 weeks in my pregnancy, so I took the opportunity to tell D face to face that I was expecting. It was one of the nicest conversations ever; she hugged me and said, “Now he gets to be a part of a real family – well you know what I mean!” And I did, I hugged her and thanked her for making all this possible. It all happened due to a “mistake” an 18 year old made. Without her “mistake” I would never have been doubly blessed. I was meant to be Little Man’s Mom, apparently Little Man picked out a sibling in heaven and said, “Wouldn’t be a hoot if you came to be in my family? Give me 4 months to break them in, then you come join in the fun. Let’s drive those parents’ nuts!”

Once I passed 12 weeks, my goal was 25 weeks. Anyone who has been in the infertility world knows that 25weeks equals increased viability incase the baby was born pre-mature. No, I did not want that, and actually had a sister of a good friend going through that roller coaster of a premie. But, I knew 25weeks was good- anything beyond that was better. “Normal” pregnant people strive for 36weeks, but I knew the other side of this. I knew the horror and heartbreak that can affect pregnant ladies. I have never EVER been as paranoid as I was being pregnant. Physically the pregnancy was perfect; emotionally it was taxing for Jeff and me. We knew that dark side of things and it scared the hell out of us.

We found out the sex of SeaMonkey- it was gonna be a girl. A girl? What do I know about little girls? I am a horrible non-frilly, non-girlie person. Sorry in advanced SeaMonkey, Momma has no idea how to do hair or make-up. Maybe we can learn together. At least I can do teach you a prefect cartwheel and a mean downward facing dog.

Little Man kept growing and growing! Next thing I know he’s crawling, cutting teeth, and standing Not to be out done by Father’s Day 2008, Little Man raised the bar and decided that was the day he was going to walk. Wow, Jeff gets pretty awesome Father’s Day gifts, huh?

Next thing we know, it’s July – Little Man’s first Birthday. My dear friend who visited me in December decided to make the flight in to see Little Man and to see me all 8 months pregnant. Oh, and did I mention, she was finally blessed with a miracle of her own? She was 6 months along, also expecting a little girl.

Little Man had a great first birthday! D came to visit, but his birth father decided not to attend- his choice. I reached another goal at least my kids would be 12 months apart, phew. The day after Little Man’s birthday, my friend took me to breakfast and surprised me with a Baby Shower. It was just us two, but the kindness of the moment was not lost on me. In our area, you only get 1 shower. Little Man’s welcome home party counted as my shower, so this little personal shower was the closest thing I ever had to a traditional baby shower. It was perfect!

Lucky for me the summer was not horribly hot. Jeff and I enjoyed our last few weeks with Little Man as an only child. We prepared for SeaMonkey’s arrival – even if we could not decide on a name. We took nightly walks and just passed the time. And yes, every Saturday, I did my yoga.

One day I woke up and something felt a little weird. Needless to say, that evening I was in the hospital, and the next morning I gave birth to our beautiful daughter. For the full birth story (again un-censored) click here: http://lovey1226.blogspot.com/2009/11/calista-chesla-maries-birth-story.html

Two weeks after I gave birth, I returned back to yoga, and to Irena, my yoga lady. A sweet lady in our class knitted SeaMonkey a beautiful blanket. Months later she commented to me that I was looking good. “You look good, when I met you, you were already pregnant. It’s hard for me to see you and not see the pregnant lady.”

Holy cow, there it was. I was “that pregnant lady” in yoga. How fricking amazing was that? I wanted to walk around my whole pregnancy with a shirt that said, “I’m not your normal fertile lady. I’m not like you, my story is different.” But, to look at me from the outside, there I was just another pregnant lady with her infant son, just another pregnant lady doing yoga, just a typical looking pregnant lady. I looked so “normal” but my road to parenthood was anything BUT normal.

That is essentially my story to becoming a parent. It’s unique I’ll give you that. However, I hate the comment, “Oh see you finally relaxed that’s how you got pregnant.” Or “Oh I know someone who adopted and got pregnant right after! See all you needed to do was adopt!”

Ever look at a Mom with a 4 month old? Is she the picture of Zen – not so much. I don’t know how I became so blessed; I’m not sure what I did or didn’t do. Was it divine intervention of my Gramma in heaven? Was it fate? Did I finally open to grace/ the Universe? I dunno. But, I know, Little Man had to come to our family first. Until then, no science would allow us to be parents. Your children have a way of finding you, some a little more uniquely that others.

Thank you ALL for reading this blog novella; it been awesome to write it and re-live my adventures. I hope this can give people an insight to the disease of infertility, the reality of the adoption process and just get people talking. I hate how the subjects of infertility and adoption are soo taboo and yet, it affects so many of us. But, if this gives just 1 person or couple hope, to realize you can fight this and you are not alone; I’ve done what I set out to do. I hope you found this entertaining and educational. I hope next time you hear of a couple trying to conceive, you stop and give them support they need – not the horrible advice to “just relax.”

My Story- Part 3 – Dear Universe, how about you take care of this!

Paper work, Paper work and MORE paper work. All the adoption paperwork was beyond daunting. We had to fill out paperwork on what kind of child we would accept. Could the child be bi-racial – OK, Alaskan – OK. Could the child have major brain dysfunction? Could the child have a history of sexual abuse? Could the child have schizophrenia? Really, these were real questions – that document was 4 pages long, front and back. Nothing like soul searching with “what can we deal with?” It felt really odd, like I can deal with this disease, but not that. The most conflicting part of filling that out was if this child was our biologic child, God doesn’t give me a check list. I felt dirty placing our limitations on paper. We were instructed to be very candid and honest; they don’t want to wait time trying to place the wrong child in the wrong family. It was awful.

Then was the 12 page front and back questionnaire we had to fill out about ourselves. The paper work was nosey; it asked things I would never tell a soul. Violated was how it felt. No one gives a damn if you are a pregnant crack addict; it’s your biologic child. But, try to adopt? Prepare to jump through hoops like one of those little dogs at the circus.

In March, we went to Florida for a great trip. We wanted to relax and have fun. Actually we met another couple trying to adopt. They actually had the potential birth mother living with them. It was different, but they were able to go to all her doctor appointments and share in the pregnancy.

To stay on D’s radar, I sent her a birthday card. A few weeks later she called to see if she could schedule a dinner to meet Jeff. DUH, sister I’ll move heaven and EARTH to meet you. Again, I was looking for the perfect outfit. We decided to meet at Max’s & Erma’s, and by this time Adoption Attorney said it was OK to buy her food, but not a new car. I was pretty happy to get that clarification. Phew, I’d hate her chicken fingers to be the reason we could not adopt. ANYWAY, we were all nervous, Jeff and I debated on the way over, “Do we order a beer, or will be come off as a bunch of drunks?” Needless to say, we both did order a beer. Dinner went well, D and Jeff hit it off, and again it was so very natural. Great, now tell us we can be the adoptive parents. We discussed open adoption and all that, tell us. Commit. DO IT. Nope, instead we got this bombshell, “Well, Boyfriend (not baby daddy) thinks we could parent. So, we might. But, I’ll still not sure.” Heart drops to feet, all air sucked out of my chest. I plaster on a smile and say, “Wow, OK. That might be tough, but it is your decision. However, we are still going through the adoption home study process.” My head is spinning as I try to breathe and get through dinner.

Obviously that did not go as planned. And YES it totally sucked. However, I still sent her a card thanking her for the visit, etc, etc, keeping us on the radar. Blah, blah. Damn.

Ah, it’s a nice Saturday; I go to yoga as always. Of course another PG lady is in class – really I think part of my yoga was learning how to accept reality. Anyway, this class was great. We had a minor discussion about being in the right place at the right time to hear something or experience something. To this day, I swear yoga lady used a “fancy” term, but I cannot recall. That stuck with me. For instance, seeing the Yoga Van on that 4^th of July, had we not have gone to the parade, would I have ever found the studio? The Bible study Jeff’s Dad and Step-Mom attended, had they not gone, would we even have found out about D? Destiny? Fate? God’s will? Hmm…. Very thought provoking, to say the least.

April came around, and so did another D contact. She and I met, she was still very whishy washy about parenting, versus adoption. But, it sounded like she was just plain not sure. She had not gotten any baby stuff, no baby shower, just nothing. All of us were in a limbo. She was the only one who could make this decision, my place was to be supportive and be myself. If she wanted to parent, that is her choice. Of course, I had to bring up being on assistance and such. I was simply honest, blatantly honest, but with Jeff and I – 2 stable people, we can provide for the child. Oh, and she told me she found out the sex of the baby, did I want to know? Yes, I did. It would be a boy. I might have a son, maybe.

After this meeting I started a nightly prayer. My nightly prayer went like this (don’t laugh, after 12 years of Catholic schooling – this is how I talk to the man upstairs):

Dear God- Please help me increase my patience in a situation I cannot control. Please help D make the best decision for her and her baby whatever that might be. Amen.

I needed patience to understand it was her decision, then I could pray she makes the right decision for her AND the baby. I kept this a nightly prayer and also while doing savasana in yoga (savasana occurs at the end of yoga when you allow your mind and body to rest/relax – my body relaxes, but not my mind) I would send thoughts to D and her baby.

Jeff and I were still going through our adoption hoops. I had created a fire escape plan from EVERY room in our house, had the Fire Marshall inspect out house with 5 smoke detectors all with Carbon Monoxide detectors, and we were now proud owners of a fire ladder (Hi- yeah anyone with biologic kids have to do that? As if the hospital cared YOU had smoke detectors or a fire ladder. No Fire Marshall at you house, huh? You must not love your children as much as we love the IDEA of a child… Just Kidding, please hold the hate mail!!!!). We got finger printed downtown, oh and we had to worry about if our awesome (child-eating) Dobermans would cause us to fail a home study. With a majority of our paperwork concluded, it was now May; time to sign up for our adoption classes. Unfortunately for me, the first weekend conflicted with a trip to New York I planned with my Mom. Sorry, not canceling my trip to NYC to sit in a room. With a little flexibility (which the agency we worked with had SO little), it was agreed I could make up my class. So, Jeff had to face it alone.

Jeff called me after class and was talking about positive adoption language (see Sept blog archive for more on that), and thinking positive in general. I took an afternoon to myself in New York to walk around 5^th avenue. Funny, I eventually found myself at FAO Schwartz. Nice way to torture yourself Kim. But, Jeff’s passed down advice kept looping in my head – Think Positive- You will be a PARENT. OK, let’s try. I sauntered around for about an hour and revisited the baby section. Everything was all cozy and cute. But, boy I did feel out of place. I kept waiting for a guard to come up to me and go, “Excuse me lady, you are an infertile with an adoption falling apart – you don’t belong here.” I felt like I was Hester Prynn, but instead of wear the scarlet letter “A” – it was an “I.” I happened upon a cute little monkey, just a little FAO special stuffed animal. I decided to purchase that little guy.

When I brought him home, little Monkey became our beacon of hope. I told Jeff, if baby comes home with us or if D chooses to parent, this Monkey is his. From that day forward, Monkey slept in the bed with us. Strangely it was really comforting to us both.

Mid-May we were invited to D’s parents house for dinner. Again, I am willing to clear my schedule to get us in. More face time the better, was my thought. We had a nice dinner, meeting D’s Mom, step-dad and little brother and sister. D shared with us ultra-sound pictures. All of us just took time to get to know one another. After we left, D’s little sister confided that, if D decided on adoption, she hoped we would be the family. We hoped and prayed for that as well. D was due in about 2 months and still had not made a decision. She had graduation coming up, and was still with Boyfriend. OH, BIG ASIDE – Boyfriend’s brother got a 16 year old pregnant- they were planning on parenting. NOT HELPING MY CAUSE!!!

--June 2008---

Now, remember earlier when yoga lady brought up the whole being in the right place at the right time? One Saturday I happened upon the PERFECT yoga class. No other class had I been to was meant for me more than this one. It began as any other class, we started with basic warm-ups. Eventually we got to Mountain (I was standing for those non-yoga readers). We placed our arms above our heads (shoulder blades of course placed firmly on the back – good yoga posture), then did the simplest thing. I tilted my fingers forward, then to tilted them backwards. We were opening ourselves to the Universe, letting go. Swaha, (pronounced Ss-WAAAA-HAAAA) I think she called it. The basic, I cannot handle this anymore, here Universe YOU DEAL WITH IT. In my mind, I focused on D’s decision before her. I made a decision that I’m done, it’s up to you and the universe. I have done all I can do, it’s out of my hands. Instantly, a huge weight lifted from me. I was light and alive. I think I just found Kim again…

It seems like after that day things moved very quickly. We were asked to dinner by D’s Mom to meet her Grandma, and Aunt and Uncle. Again, this meeting was great, we all hit it off. I remember D’s Grandma coming up to me and saying, “You are doing such a good thing for my Granddaughter. You are saving her life.” I responded, “No, she is saving us and making us a family. For that I could never ever repay her.” So, did that little conversation mean D made a decision? Nope, but her Grandmother was hoping. Jeff and I both agreed that D’s Grandma reminded us of my Gramma. That was very comforting and we took that as a good sign.

The next day we received an update that D went to the hospital that evening with Braxton-Hicks contractions. Apparently, the situation and lack of a plan for her child freaked her out. I waited a few days, and then sent a text that I hoped all was well. I received a text back that she had planned on calling me and that we should meet. We agreed to meet the next Sunday for breakfast – Sunday was also Father’s Day.

I’m not a big IHOP person (sorry IHOP- I’m really not into breakfast as a whole), but 8 months pregnant D was craving it. OK, here we go again. As always the conversation began with small talk. Then came this, “I’m not sure how to tell you something, but I need to.” Me: “Ok. Just say it.” D: “Do you have a doctor?” Me: “huh?” D: “You know a baby doctor.” Me: “No, but I know how to get one.” D: “Do you have a car seat?” Me: “No, but I know where to find one. What are you trying to tell me?” D: “This baby will not be coming home with me. I’d like him to go home with you.”

Seriously, in IHOP, I get the biggest news of my life. Did I mention how much I LOVE IHOP? So, I try to remain calm and cool as internal Kim is doing the cabbage patch and other great 1980’s dances in my head in celebration. Calm, I’m the adult, I’m calm.

We proceed to discuss that she has been getting counseling via an adoption agency, turns out the SAME agency we were working with for our home study. [Aside here, I called the agency the next day, they now considered us a “matched” adoption – so what you ask? That means we had to pay for the counseling. I was slightly ticked off and it was EXPENSIVE. But, if she places, it would be the BEST Hawaiian vacation I ever bought for someone else. Now back to the story.] Apparently, for MONTHS this counselor had been telling D not to get our hopes up, until she was 100% with her decision. This counselor also kept showing D other prospective parent Birth Mother Letters. But, her hospital visit scared her enough to make a decision.

After our visit, we decide to go to Toys-R-Us. She and I prowl the baby section, ain’t no scarlet letter “I” on me today- I’m with my Potential Birth Mom! Woo-hoo! Do a DANCE!!! We pick out bottles, pacifiers and decided to get What to Expect for Baby’s First Year. We agree that if she decides to parent, I will give these items to her. She tells me, she will not change her mind. Sorry, but I can’t place all my eggs in that basket yet. My guard was still up; we’ve been though enough heartache, I cannot do it again. When we separate, I run to a book store to get a book on baby names. I drive home without saying a WORD to Jeff. Now that was hard.

I arrive home, go in the house and ask Jeff to get the stuff from the trunk. Silently, I follow him out. He looks at the bags and sees the bottles, he asks, “Why do you have these?” I recap the story from IHOP and conclude with “Looks like we might be parents in a few weeks.” We stand there in our driveway hugging and crying in a mini-celebration. On lookers must have thought we were nuts. Pretty Good Father’s Day present, huh?

We agree to keep things hush, hush. We shared our news that day with Jeff’s Dad and step-Mom, since they were the ones who did the initial contact. We secretly told the rest of our parents, then by mid-July all close family and friends knew. Things were kept pretty quiet as nothing would be 100% until 3 days after his birth and parental rights were terminated.

Nuts, I still have to make up that adoption class, make update 7-19-2008.

To prepare for our arrival (but not too much), we got the basics. A pack-n-play, diapers, wipes, a few onesies, blankets a few burb clothes, and I started researching about babies. Everything stayed in its box or packaging, you know incase we had to return it all. I was not about to have a boat load of baby stuff around and no baby to use it.

The evening of 7-17-2008, started off normal enough, Jimmy Buffet was playing at Riverbend. Jeff and I decided to listen to the concert, drink some beer and play some cards. Around 7:30 I got a text “I don’t feel well, I’m going to the hospital.” I respond back with “Should we come.” Response: “No. I will let you know.” Two beers now sat un-drank on our patio table. The laptop was quietly closed. Jeff and I stared at each other tingling excitement. This is real; she might be having a baby soon. Wooow. Like many prospective adoptive parents we sat and stared at my cell phone, for hours. Too nervous to watch TV, too nervous to play cards, too nervous for anything, except staring at that phone. Eventually around 12am we get the next text, “The nurse broke my water, they are admitting me. The nurse says you should come now.”

Jeff was so nervous he turned the wrong way out of our sub-division. We basically traveled in silence, too scared to realize what was about to happen. We were either going to meet our son, or we were leaving a hospital devastated. Jeff’s Mom met us at the hospital, we all checked in at 1:37am. We made our way to D’s room, met Boyfriend and D’s mom was there as well. It was a full house. REALLLLLYYYY LOOOOONNGGG labor short, a little boy was born. He was brought into a world full or drama and emotions. While his birth mother was laboring, his birth father was talking to Jeff’s Mom. Boyfriend was ticked off he was kicked out of the room during labor (we had left as well) he punched a wall and stormed out of the hospital. Jeff and I stood outside her room, waiting to hear a baby cry. Instead, D’s Mom poked her head out of the door and said “Get in here NOW.” My feet have never moved so quickly. Next thing we know, there was this little boy screaming. Someone was handing scissors to cut the umbilical cord, D’s mom handed them to me – her words, “You do it Momma.” My hands were shaking like a leaf, the cut was made and he was free. The nurses did their thing and D was not ready to see him yet. Jeff and I were able to have a private moment with our son. OUR SON. It was amazing.

People flooded in and out of D’s room. Eventually she held him, as did his birth father. Next thing I see is Boyfriend coming in with HIS mom. This is not good. They are NOT pro-adoption. There they were talking to D. “You can keep this baby; I had “Boyfriend” at 16. You’re 19, plenty old enough to have a baby.” A primal urge to go over and smack this lady overcame me. But, you know what? D said, “I have a plan for my son. My plan is to give him everything he needs.” God Bless her for sticking to her guns.

The next 3 days were long, but it was important to be to give D her space. It was her turn to be Mom. I was more than willing to give her 3 days of being Mom; I would have this little man for a lifetime. He was born on a Friday, and Monday is when she could sign the termination papers. Funny note, on Saturday I finished my adoption classes. Early Monday morning, my phone beeped. I received a text from D, it went like this….

“I know this is random and at 2am. But, I am scared about tomorrow. It is going to be so hard and I just want you to know, that I could not have picked better parents. Just know that I have never loved anyone as much as I love my son, so please just take good care of him, and let him know that I love him every day!”

The next day our son came home with his forever parents. --

Phew- that was LOOONNGGGGG-- Thanks for following this far, this story isn’t over. I don’t hear that lady singing yet.

Part 4 coming soon

My Story – Part 2 – From Greif to Renewed Hope

Thank God Jeff is wiser than he looks. He knew I needed something, I think he could tell I was losing my sense of self. Once that Yoga Van drove by, he even agreed I should try it. I remember him exactly telling me, “You should do it. Try it, do it for YOU. You don’t do anything for you.”

We had our follow-up visit with the infertility doctor. Although he was sensitive to the situation that our pregnancy was not viable, he was “excited that [we] actually got pregnant.” I found it very difficult to share in his joy. Months later a lady I knew who had infertility issues in the 1980’s and built her family through adoption told me, flat out, “At least you got pregnant, if only for 8 weeks; some of us never even get that far.” Wow, way to drop me down a peg. So, not only was I an infertile, I was now an infertile with a pregnancy/mis-carriage under her belt. Apparently, that type of “infertile” is different than just a “normal” infertile that always tests negative. Much to my shock, some people envied ME for those 8 weeks I had with our baby failing to grow inside me. Envied me? Weird. The loss I felt after those 8 weeks was much more devastating than any negative PG test I ever took. That loss shook me to my core, it stayed with me. When we would have been 12 weeks PG, I was hurt. Hurt I could not be that PG lady telling everyone I was expecting. Each week had a new hurt, and a little healing. Hard, it was so very hard.

That Yoga Van haunted me. Like anything new, it took a level of courage to get up the nerve to try yoga and get out of my comfort zone. I spoke with another softball lady; she also wanted to try yoga. So, she made a call and we went to our first intro to Yoga Class. This was a few weeks after our mis-carriage, I was still pretty low. The doctor had released me back to my normal activities. I knew from reading, that yoga and positive imagery could again assist with pregnancy and a better response from IVF treatments. Willing to try anything, let’s do it.

I walked into the studio, and this super cute, energetic lady pops up from behind the desk. Then my world did a mini-crash around me. All the positive energy radiating around her was not just positive energy, it was a glow.  She was pregnant -like 5/6 months along. Cute yoga lady, with an equally cute pregnant belly, it was like I walked into my own personal little hell. I simply could not comprehend the odds of this situation. My gut said, gently walk out and never look back. Kim, the universe is just being mean to you and standing before you is your nemesis – a pregnant lady. I felt like I had been socked in the gut. Ouch.

Yoga lady gave us little forms to fill out, typical stuff, but it asked for recent injuries/surgeries. I listed my d and c as simply “abdominal surgery.” She was a stranger; I was not ready to share my loss with a stranger. I remember walking into class with a heavy heart, and I remember the sting of tears in my eyes. Damn it Kim, get it together, it’s just YOGA.

Class went really well, I really enjoyed it. Yoga lady was a great teacher, and soon, I found myself being OK with her pregnancy. She was rejoicing each class about how beautiful it felt. I’m not sure of her story and nor did I ever ask, but I could tell she felt blessed and very lucky to be pregnant. Maybe it was her honesty that made me accept I was taking class from a PG lady. Those next 6 weeks of intro to yoga class flew by, and I found myself getting stronger physically and mentally. I was beginning to finally heal, and beginning to see a glimpse of Kim.

I continued on with Yoga and moved up to the next class. No longer was I a beginner yogini, I was in Flow/ Mixed level yoga. Sweet yoga lady was getting pretty advanced in her pregnancy so I had a new wonderful teacher. The best way to describe my new teacher was she had the Spirit of Aloha. Sounds pretty granola of me, huh? But, she was. There was a different energy to these classes, more advanced moves, more challenging. And, another pregnant lady; did I mention she was due early February 2008 – around the same time I would have been due. Dear Universe, don’t just stab me in the heart, let’s twist it a little too. Ugh.

Jeff and I decided we were officially on an extended break from cycling. We had the new house, with LOTS of projects. Lots of wall paper removal, painting, and decorating. We found ourselves surrounding us with our friends again to celebrate Bengal Sundays. We tried to accept any invitations to do something; we were tired of living in our little shell. We both agreed we need to get out, spend time with others and begin to heal as a couple.

During this time my Gramma as took a turn. She had been battling Alzheimer’s, a truly horrible disease. The only small blessing was she never remembered I was pregnant, nor did I ever have to tell her about the loss. She was blissfully unaware of the world around her, but having her own little interpersonal war in her brain full of jumbled memories. In the beginning of December 2007, my Gramma passed away. It was very difficult, we were very close – as close and my Mom and I. We planned her funeral and her wake. We decided to host the wake at our new home. A home we had planned to fill with love, laughter and children, was now a home filled with a grieving family. That was another bad day – see why I really did not like 2007?

I still went to my yoga every Saturday. Every Saturday afternoon, my mind, body and soul felt refreshed. It was good for me; I was getting stronger and more flexible. I would come home to Jeff and show him the “new move” I learned. He would laugh at me as I tried to re-create it all. We were beginning to get happy again, able to accept joy again. I finally began to find myself and the hurt of my loss began to lessen. It was never forgotten, nor will it ever be. True healing began.

We rang in the New Year surrounded by our friends. We hosted a New Years Eve party and everyone had a great time. 2008 had got to be better, right???

It was a typical chilly January morning, in 2008. One of those mornings you simply want to stay in your jammies and bum around. So, we did. We skipped church to play video games. Jeff, the dogs and I all snuggled on the couch relaxing. Ring, ring. Crap the phone, screw it. Leave a message and we’ll call you back. Pure laziness kept me on the couch. Jeff got up to make us a snack and check the message. As he was holding the phone, I could see a shift in his face. Immediately, I had that gut feeling something was not right. I stared at him as he listened to the message, and then hung up the phone. His tone and his words were very measured and precise.

“That was Linda (Jeff’s Step-Mom). She and Dad went to a Bible study. There was a lady there….she stated her 18 year old daughter was pregnant and thinking about adoption. Linda approached the Bible study coordinator to ask to be introduced to the lady. Linda told the lady our story. The lady asked Linda to have us send her daughter a letter.”

Right there. That moment was a major turning point in our lives. What was our goal? Our goal was to be parents. Did the child have to be biologic? Was that important to us? Could we adopt a child? We have the funds from the sale of our house just sitting in a savings account ready for our next cycle, do we need to cycle? Would this girl even consider us? I could finally be a Mom. Jeff could be a Dad. Wow, really, we could finally be a FAMILY. Family.

Immediately, I jumped up went upstairs and Googled – “Dear Birth Parent” letters. By that evening I had drafted a 6 page letter about us, with pictures. We received an email the next day on 1-14-08 with a name and address to send it to. My goal was to have this thing written and sent by 1-16-08. We went though many drafts. I had a few readers assist me with editing, but eventually we had a masterpiece (well as close to a masterpiece and as of my writing could be). Our letter was 5 pages with pictures --- I later learned most "Dear Birth Parent" letters are simply 2 pages. Lucky for us, we knew the girl's name so I was able to title it directly to her, and not a generic "To Someone Special or Dear Birth Parent." At least titling it directing to her, made it feel more personal. I honestly did write this JUST for her.

I remember going to the store to find the "perfect" envelope. I did not want to fold the letter, I wanted it perfect. So, I remember debating between 3 different envelops- I choose one. Went home, placed our letter in, and said a prayer.  I also went so far as to call an Adoption Attorney. He gave me general information and a place to look into getting a home study. Wow, that phone call was a catalyst that began a whole new chapter of our lives. I think that chapter was titled, “Jeff and Kim Consider adoption- now what the heck do we do?”

A couple days later (1-17-- I believe), I received an email from potential birth mom. We did a few emails, then nothing. But, I wanted to meet her so badly, to really show her who I was and give her an idea of 1/2 of the couple behind the letter. I called her on 1-25 and asked her to lunch. We decided to meet at a local bagel shop. I went through numerous outfits. I was looking for the perfect “Look at me I’m normal and pick me to be the adoptive Mom” outfit.
I arrived at the bagel shop and this bouncing, bright girl with beautiful long hair comes in. That was her, I have met D. We ordered our bagels, and sat down. I did not buy her lunch, which I really wanted to do. The Adoption Lawyer said to not pay for ANYTHING. I felt rude, but damn it if a $3 bagel sandwich could make this possible adoption illegal, well honey yous got to buy your OWN sammich. We just began chatting, and talking, and talking. She used to do gymnastics until she hurt her back. We just talked about everything and anything. It was so natural and so easy.

After we said good-bye, we hugged and said how great it was to meet. I left and went to a local Stamping store (it's across form the Bagel place and I hardly find the time to get there!). At the stamp store my head was spinning even more. I knew I wanted to send her a note, thanking her for meeting with me. So I found a few stamps and ran across one that said, "Adoption is Just Another Word for Love." I debated getting the stamp, but right then and there I did. I figured hopefully I'd use it for us, if not I now have an adoption stamp.

Later that evening (my Birthday no less!), Jeff took me to a movie. My choice was Juno. Funny thing is I had heard an interview with the writer of the movie in late Nov/ early Dec (check my Sept 2010 archives for more info on that). So, my interest was peaked - but then D RAVED about it. So, I had to see it. I cried, I held Jeff's hand tight and cried even more. We could be that adoptive couple, that could be us. OMG- THAT COULD BE US!!!!

February came and a friend’s daughter had her baby on what should have been my due date. I figured at least something good happened on that day. Luckily for us, the renewed faith in the world with a “possible adoption” made things look brighter. We received a HUGE packet of information for the home study. Wrote a few HUGE checks to the adoption people and waited. I think we sent D a card. It was like being part of a job interview. You want to company to remember you so you send emails and letters, just to stay on their radar. That was my goal, to stay on her radar. 

Phew… OK let’s stop there.

My Story, Part 1

OK, I said I was going to do it. I want to write my story, with all my crappy grammar, mis-spellings, run-on and not sentence sentences. This will be an English Teacher’s nightmare. But you know, for me, it will be cathartic and really good for my soul. So, during the change of seasons, I’ve been cleaning out our closets. And now it’s time to be a little introspective and clean out my soul a little as well :)

Warning- Infertility, Pregnancy and Loss mentioned – Read at your own Risk.

I remember my wedding day in 2000, there is a memory from that day that would haunt me for years to come. We had your classic hour long Catholic ceremony, on the most HUMID day in September in a church packed with 250 people, that fit 250 and did I mention no air conditioning? Yeah, people were warm to say the least. The time came to say our vows, the priest asked us to answer “I will” after his statements. When the priest got to the part about, “Will you accept children lovingly into your family?” I remember doing an internal eye roll and saying, “I Will.” But at that time I was not ready. I did not want kids and was unsure I ever wanted children. For years after I had those thoughts while up at that alter, I felt God was getting me back.

Now, lets go up to 2001, right after our first anniversary, my step-mother passed away. We realized how precious life was and we decided, “Let’s start a family.” Like most couples, we told our families we were trying. Also, like most couples, we figured we’d be pregnant in no time. We were 26 and 27, so fertility issues – doubtful. Then nothing happened. Months went by and nothing. I visited the doctor and he suggested we try a year before we try any “intervention.” Once a year passed and nothing, we scheduled the routine tests, which all turned out fine. He simply suggested we try more often.

Let’s just say, soon after, I changed doctors. We were in Disney the first time I tried a clomid cycle. Seriously, all the kids at Disney, plus clomid, if that doesn’t stimulate anything, nothing will. Hell, we even had 3 days at sea, trapped on a Disney cruise. There were kids surrounding us (mind you we did spend 99% of our time at the ESPN zone away from kids, but near the beer). Yep, nothing. Nothing the cycle after that, or the cycle after that. Hmm…. Let’s try artificial insemination with clomid; there is not a thing “wrong” with us so why not?

During our clomid and insemination cycles, I took a new job that had me traveling all around the country. So, I remember being on a bus taking me to a rental car depot in Chicago, scheduling an insemination. Let’s just say, 3 cycles and nothing again. I heard I had a tight cervix, hence a delightful cervix dilation procedure. By this time, 4 years had passed.

In those 4 years we had lots of people giving us advice…

“Relax, you’re thinking too much.”

“Go get drunk and do it in the back of a Chevy.”

“When it’s ready to happen it will happen.”

“Keep praying, God will bless you with a family.”

“You just need to relax and stop trying so hard.”

“Just relax and try some clomid…”

Everyone meant well with their advice, but if we had a dollar for all the people that told me to relax, we’d have a lovely beach house in Hawaii.

By this time, people with babies made me feel beyond jealous, I was envious. A child was something I coveted, something I could not make happen. Honestly, in my life I got everything I ever wanted. No, it was not all simply handed to me, I worked for it. Damn it, I have been working for a child for 3 years by now. What are we doing wrong? Oh my God, God is getting back at me for not wanting children when I got married. Oh crap, I am so screwed.

After the inseminations failed, our doctor suggested an infertility doctor (i.e. a Reproductive Endocrinologist for those of you looking for a GREAT major in Med School that pays AWESOME). Of course, an infertility doctor! He can fix us! We had a lovely consultation where the doctor assured us we should be pregnant by Christmas; however, I needed to have a “clean out” surgery. After surgery, we thought we’d try on our own. I mean I had all new girlie parts. All shiney and new and ready for a baby. Still nothing….

October 2004, our first injectable cycle with insemination. We knew this would work. Nope, nope and nope. Seriously, what the heck are we doing wrong??? Lots of people around us are working on their second and third child. I had pretty well stopped attending baby showers or anything that had to do with babies. TV show with babies or birth struck a nerve. I was jealous, frustrated and simply angry. So, very angry! We are good people, with good jobs, we have our stuff together, we are ready. Seriously, any time. We are READY!!!

There was cycle #2 around Thanksgiving – nada, then cycle #3. Cycle #3 delightfully coincided with Christmas. During our 2ww (2 week wait for those not in the know), I was crying at Paula Dean getting tickets to Paris and equally crying when WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) went to visit the troops. There I was bawling as these grown men wrestled to entertain our troops. HEART WRENCHING SOBS. Hmmm, hyper emotions, it must have worked. Right? Wrong. Merry Christmas to Kim, here is your monthly visitor. Depressed, angry and pissed on Jesus’ birthday, delightful. At that point I said I need a break as Jeff was looking for a safe house from his hopped up on horror-mones, crazy wife. Yes, a break, please give that girl a beer.

After a few months break, we go back again to our infertility doctor. He is doing a new study with a product called “Invocell.” It’s basic IVF, except instead of the sperm and egg living in a petri dish to fertilize, they will go into this device that is then inserted into me! A free IVF cycle sign me up! Although we did end up having a few thousand out of pocket. Here we go, sperm and egg sequestered together for 3 days and they cannot escape, surly we will have some fertilized. 1 we had 1, 2-celled embryo. Needless to say the cycle did not work. We were heart broken. Again, let’s have a break.

By now, friends are having baby #3, people who we knew were too young to parent were pregnant. Pregnant people and babies were all around us, it was hard. Now, we needed a game plan. We needed money to cycle again, but where do you get that cash? Answer a home equity loan. The only “money” we had was tied up in the house. We knew it was a gamble, but when you want to be a parent and you cannot – you will literally do anything. By that point I was pondering finding a nice child at Target and ever so nicely walking out with it. When you are placed in such a desperate situation that is so out of control, you think these thoughts. You also begin to separate yourself from friends and family. I know I did not go to a baby shower for years – it was too hard. I remember one shower I attended had me in a funk for days. No ones fault, it was just the overwhelming emotion of “When the hell will it be my turn? What are we doing wrong?” WHY?????

Let’s welcome in 2007. Little did I know this year would be a MAJOR turning point in Jeff and my life. This year we were tested as a couple and as individuals. Reliving this one is tough.

2007 started off again as a year of hope. We decided to cycle again, yeah IVF #2. This was also the year I started this blog. I figured it would be a great way to keep family and friends in the loop. With the blog I could do updates and address questions that people had. It could be an education on IVF. I started out with trying acupuncture. Studies had shown that acupuncture can help make the body more inviting for a positive IVF cycle. Again, this was something I could control to help my body- BRING ON THE NEEDLES!!!

WAIT- HOLD UP- Right as this cycle began it was stopped. It was discovered I had an Uterine Polyp – OMG?! Is this why we can’t get pregnant? Well, before we go forward, lets get that removed and healed and let’s cycle again!!!!!!

By now, it’s April. I was ready to be as fertile as a bunny. It was spring, I was ready. Jeff and I were in full positive thought mode, we were a team. Screw you infertility we are about to kick you in the jimmy. We are gonna do it! Go Team Howell!

Shots, egg retrieval, embryo transfer….now wait…. (for details please read the archives)

And Wait….

Hey look at me taking a pregnancy test… HOLY MOTHER OF GOD IT SAYS PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It worked. Finally. We did blood work, everything looked awesome. Ultrasound at 4 weeks was great, ultrasound at 6 weeks looked Ok, but lets see you back at 8 weeks.

Between weeks 6 and 8 operation – MUST BUY A LARGER HOUSE- went into full swing. On June 13^th we put a bid in on the house. By June 24^th the bid was accepted AND we had the house inspected.

June 27^th we had our ultrasound. June 27^th also would have been my step-mom’s birthday. On June 27^th, 2007 was the day we found out our pregnancy was not viable. June 27^th, 2007 was the day that the floor fell from under Jeff and I. That day and the days following were my worst days ever. I never want to feel or be as numb as I was during that time. After the d and c, I was trapped in a body who still *thought* it was pregnant. My body, my mind and my soul were all at war. I honestly never felt as alone, defective, or broken as I had. I was really very broken and the only person who could put me back together was me, providing I had the strength to do it.

July 4^th, 2007 – some may call it synchronicity; some may call it an answered silent prayer. Occasionally, you find yourself in the right place at the right time. On July 4^th, Jeff and I went to our local 4^th of July parade. Nothing mind blowing about that, but then drove by a little mini-van with purple writing. It read, Grace Yoga. 943 –XXXX. Yoga, you know I always wanted to do yoga. Maybe it’s time I did something for ME. Hell, it IS time I did something for Kim. I seemed to have lost myself and my identity with this infertility diagnosis and treatment. Let’s see if we can find Kim…

Let’s stop there, I promise the rest of this story will be awesome.

Maybe...

Well, first a glimpse into the future.... I am in the process of writing my story. My story beginning from my wedding day until, well, I'm not sure where I'll stop. But, it's a background on Jeff and I and our infertility story, but my version of it. I have told it lots, but I feel I need to share. Ok, maybe OVERSHARE. I laughed at blog I follow, her tagline reads something like, "Oversharing on the internet since 2003." That's what I do, "over share." Hee-hee!!!!

Yes, so eventually, I hope to post my story, probably in a few parts, someone seems to type rather long winded, geeze. I can't have you get bored, so we'll do segments.

OK, my rant at hand. You ever remember those moments; those moments that you were explained something and you simply thought, "No one can be that sensitive" or "Does that really matter" (typically I do an internal eye roll in this situation). However, when you find yourself in just the right situation, you think to yourself, "Shit that does make a difference, I was an under-educated moron" (insert mental head slap!). You know one of THOSE moments.

I'm digressing a hair, but I swear I will come back to the point. Huh, revelation, maybe this jump around writing style was why I almost failed English 101. Anywho, Tuesday, I took CC to Kroger to pick up a few random items. On our way home, I was listening to the Broadway Musical Channel (Sirus Radio Channel 77- LOVE IT), and what comes on but a classic Annie tune. Now, fellow Mom's with adoptive kids have told me that one day you look at certain things different. One pointed out Annie. Never thought about it, until Tuesday. As the windows are down and I am preparing to belt out the song, Maybe, I find myself fast forwarding through the words in my head going, I have never really LISTENED to this song. I mean I had the Annie soundtrack memorized by age 6 (thanks to my record player and a patient Mom who thought I sang like an angel). The lyrics---

Maybe far away, or maybe real nearby.
She maybe pouring her coffee, he may be straighting his tie.
Maybe in a house, all hidden by a hill.
She's sitting playing piano, He's sitting paying a bill...

Betcha they're young, betcha they're smart
Bet they collect things like ashtrays and art
Betcha they're good, why shouldn't they be
Their one mistake was giving up me......

Shit, lightbulb... BRIGHT LIGHTBULB... When I was skipping our adoptive parent classes while in NYC with my Mom, Jeff was learning something called "positive adoption language." You don't say gave up, the Birth Mom/Parents made an adoption plan. Your baby was PLACED with you when Birth Mom/Dad SURRENDERED their parental rights. No one gave up anything, there was always a plan for the child. The plan involved both sets of parents and a PLAN. You were always loved and wanted, you were never given up, you were placed my arms when D said, now go to your Momma, this plan was made for YOU. YOU will never have to wonder MAYBE, we have the answers, or we can help you find the answers. I know Connor's story since he was cooking in D's easy-bake womb at 12weeks old.

Anyway, back in May 2008, I thought positive adoption language was horse-puckey. Who cares? Are these 'adoptive people' really that damn sensitive? Let me tell you, when you find yourself in that situation, it does matter and apparently I am that damn sensitive. All I can compare it to is being a mother or family member of a child that has special needs. There is no way you would let ANYONE utter the word "retard" without jumping down their throat- then maybe pulling out their heart a'la Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom style. You wouldn't put up with that, and personally I would never utter that word. I felt really dirty even typing it. Eww, it's ugly, an ugly word. And that is how I feel about the phrase "Given Up for Adoption."

Recently there has been a lot of press on these Teen Mom's for the MTV reality shows. People magazine did an article - now their choice of using "Adoption DRAMA" on the cover was a bit much. However, reading the story, they did it right. The child was placed with her parents, there was a plan. NEVER was the phrase "given up" used. I was very impressed. Hell, they even used the term, Semi-open adoption. Go People, surprisingly you do your research --- or both sets of parents used these terms. Either way, the writer got it right.

The Today Show apparently did a segment on the same couple- you know the evil ones who "gave their baby up for adoption." Now, Today, in general, is very politically correct and the show comes off rather factual. I was unable to watch the interview, but read the story online. HOLY CRAP, PISSED is putting it lightly. I was seething with frustration. Weaved through this "story" was the phrase "Given Up." Never a mention of adoption plan, choosing birth parents, placing their child with the parents, nothing. Just a general feeling of we are back in 1960- when birth mothers really did HAVE to give up their baby or were forced to give up the child. That is a totally different time full of horrible social stigmas. That situation is totally different, I can say thank God people learned from all that. And damn it in 2010, people should be smarter than that.

So, yeah, I was pissed. I even took a moment to write Today a letter. I doubt anything will get done, but I did it. I stood up not just for me and my beliefs, but for my son. I never want him to feel he was unwanted, unloved and simply given up.

Baby boy, there was always a plan for you. You were never given up, you were literally placed in my arms, your birth mother introduced you to me as your Mom. And Damn it, if anyone ever tells you that you were "given up" tell them to run.

It's time I stop just turning the other way and avoid "a moment" by correcting someone when they say, "oh his Mom gave him up." Nope, his Mom is who you are talking to, and his birth Mom made a plan for him. Lucky for Jeff and I that we were part of her plan. I guess it's time I start not just using the positive language I found so silly, but using it to educate others. I just need to do it a little nicer, not so a'la Temple of Doom, people seem to frown upon it when you literally rip out their beating heart. God, people are so damn sensitive. :)

How Pop Culture made us a family...

Odd, I used to listen to NPR a ton (please keep all liberal/hippy/tree hugging comments to yourself), but once I accepted the traveling job, I hardly had radio time. I had lots of airplane and hotel time, not much radio. Then once I accepted my current job, I had no commute, so again, NO RADIO time.

Somehow going somewhere (Kroger?), I caught an NPR interview. It was some chick with a weird name being interviewed about some movie she wrote. It sounded like an independent film, gritty, grainy - interesting enough that I was sucked in. The chick with the weird name was pretty intriguing, and the movie- not real sure what it was about. Pretty vague, huh? Oh, but she was a "former" stripper. Her name, sounded like a stripper name, Dakota, Devilbis, Diablo- yes- that was it. Huh, maybe if I remember I can catch this movie on DVD. I even told Jeff about this movie and how it sounded interesting.

That was my memory from November 2007. By December/January, most movie goers had heard of this movie. The movie was Juno. Little did I know, this unique movie, would change my life, my friends and families lives, and the life of a very confused 18 year old.

I am sitting here, listening to the soundtrack. It brings me back to a time which was full of so many emotions. Hope and frustration are the first two that come back to me. Frustration on, "Why does it have to be so hard for us to become a Mom and Dad?" or "Why can't we have kids? What is wrong with us?" "Why do we have to fill out all this d@mn paperwork? Why don't PG crack addicts need to have a background check before they become parents?" Hoop after hoop, created more and more frustration. But HOPE. Thank God for HOPE.

My prayer every night for months, "Dear God, Please guide D to the proper decision for her and the baby she is carrying."

I firmly believe, had the movie Juno not have been unique and popular, I doubt D would have seen it. Had Juno had kept her child, and not placed the child with it's ADOPTIVE family, I don't think I'd be a Mom. If the movie came out after D gave birth, I think she would have parented. Thank God that movie dealt with a topic that is still, so oddly, taboo. And Thank God my prayer was answered and that D did what SHE felt was the right thing for her birth child.

So, who knew pop culture can help you with family building. Huh....

SIDE NOTE: My thoughts on the media and this perception that adoption is taboo - I'll leave that for another topic. And GLEE- yes I love that show - how you handled adoption - WOW. Sooooooooooooo, not right. But at least you got that Madonna episode RIGHT ON.

Wow, those Winds of Change Blew in Fast and Furious!

Give my kids a week and GAME ON. They don't Mess Around, uh-no, they don't mess around!

Update #1: Calista and the Bottle vs. Meanest Mom Ever

I WIN!!! CC is bottle free! Some very smart Mom's gave me the idea of heating up her milk. So, milk in sippy cup, heat 20 secs, and CC enjoys her milk!!! Now, common sense here, the kid drank her formula at room temp, so right from the fridge cold milk was a little chilly. But, heat it up a little, viola! BOTTLE FREE HOME!!! All bottles are now cleaned and put away, awaiting the next baby to use them (which is still in the womb cooking until March - and NO it's NOT MINE!). But, may the bottles come in handy for the next little one (s) to use them!

Update #2: Connor and the great crib escape 2010

Friday, Connor crib-escaped, fell and scared the heck out of us all. So, as he was resting comfortably in what would be his last crib nap, I went exploring. Connor has this "conversion" bed that converts from crib to toddler bed to full size bed. I went to the basement looking for a box that contained the toddler rail. On my way, I ran across a poor dead rodent. LET ME DIGRESS...

This house is close to the woods, close enough that an occasional furry friend comes in for refuge, only to meet his/her maker via mouse trap. Initially I felt guilty of the mouse death, however 9 months later, the guilt is gone and less fuzzy creatures breach our perimeter. Alas, this was the one that was eating my pyrex portable containers (which have been tossed, so if I show up at an event with one, I PROMISE it's new and had not been assaulted by mouse).

ANYWAY.... I see dead mouse, give a little "rest in peace mousey" prayer. Then I find the box I need. And what do I see? Oh yeah, the turd of a dead mouse was apparently attempting to fashion a shiv out of Connor's toddler rail to use on us for murdering all his fuzzy friends who have broken into our home. That POS mouse chewed on the, brand-new-never-used, toddler bed piece. I looked back at dead rodent and gave him a little "burn in .... little mouse" prayer. Damn mouse. So, I was HOPING to have this pristine piece to go on Connor's chewed crib (by his own mouth), no dice. The kid is simply destined to have a chew mark on all his furniture I figure. Stupid Mouse.

That evening, Jeff, Connor and I installed his crib rail, taking down his crib side. Jeff the conveniently had softball, while I had "Dear-God-Please-Keep-Connor-In-His-Bed" duty. I watched many a SuperNanny episode where she explained, the kid gets out of bed, you gently lead them back to bed, repeat until child is in bed asleep or Mom is passed out due to too much wine consumption. I was ready, GAME FACE ON! Much to my surprise, he stayed in bed and actually went to sleep. Huh. That was easy. Every nap and night since, he's stayed in bed, played a little, then slept. It can't be that easy, can it? Apparently it can.

In the span of 8 days, we are now bottle free and only have 1 crib. Wow. Oh and a dead mouse.