the story of how a family is created

for those of you who have kids and who had to decide on a name by discussing it with a spouse who had different opinions than you did…. imagine the fun we’re having adding a third person (who has slightly different priorities and comes from a slightly different background than we do) into the mix.  yep.  good fun.  sigh.

tonight i babysat for some friends.  The baby cried.  I tried to feed her (since her dad had told me she’d probably be hungry soon).  no dice.  i checked to see if she was wet.  she shrieked louder.  i tried several different holds–they’d each work for a few bounces, then she’d get mad again.  i finally swaddled her, swayed, shushed and patted and she eventually fell asleep.  but probably 15 minutes later she woke up again.  We shared a nice few moments where she smiled at me and then it either slowly dawned on her that she was hungry or that i was unfamiliar and she started to cry again.  i tried to feed her, but as soon as she’d get a mouthful, she’d start screaming, just mad as heck.  So this dance of trying to figure out what to do went on for awhile (i won’t bore you with the rest of the play-by-play).  I was pleased to notice that her distress caused me less panic now than it used to when I babysat in high school (yay!) but I was dismayed to think that maybe the reason that she was upset was perhaps simply because i was NOT-THE-MAMA.  Now, normally, since I am obviously NOT the mama, this wouldn’t really bother me.  But tonight, it got me thinking.  They say that infants recognize their mother by smell the moment they are born.  What if my kid knows I’m NOT-THE-MAMA?  What if, even if that’s not the case, what if I WORRY that that’s why my kid is inconsolable some evening?  Because of their “primal loss”?  Will I ever feel settled into my role as THE MAMA?  Is this how dads (even biological ones) feel all the time because they don’t smell like THE MAMA either?  Or is it not as big of an issue for them?

The good news is that by the time her dad came home, she’d been asleep (albeit restlessly) for awhile and stayed asleep at least until I left.

And now my wrists ache.  Was I doing something wrong?  Must start building up wrist muscles….

hooray!  we finally took the plunge this week and purchased a diaper bag!  there was much harrumphing about it on my part (sorry, honey) because I’d originally had my heart set on a DIAPER BAG diaper bag and not some other kind of gender neutral bag that could be co-opted to behave as a diaper bag for as long as we need it to, then put to good use when we no longer need it for that purpose.  this harrumphing of mine was born of long years of “oh, that’s so CUTE!” that I’d done over Peter Rabbit themed bags, then sleeker (but still specifically for diapers) more chic models, and more recently all of the cute diaper bag patterns that Amy Butler and others like her have created.   Plus, I’d found these awesome bags as I was poking around online.  COME ON!!  SO CUTE!! I’d always dreamed of owning and carrying one of these bags and this felt like just one more “dream” I had to give up.  Despite my grumbling, I could see the wisdom in not having a diaper bag that was so girly looking that J would refuse to carry it (or change the baby in public–can you imagine him carrying that Amy Butler bag into a men’s restroom at a rest stop on the toll road?  ha!), and so we went to REI with me stubbornly dragging my feet.  When we got to the bags, I had to admit (although, come to think of it, I may not have admitted this out loud to J.  sorry, honey.) that some of the bags were pretty cute and under normal circumstances I would have jumped at the excuse to buy one.  But we soon realized… we had no idea how big of a bag we’d want.  I was pretty sure I didn’t want something enormous (I have a tendency to fill bags up, no matter how big or small they are and that can get really heavy, really quickly), but on the other hand, I didn’t want a bag so small that the items would only fit in if you put them in JUST so with no room for growth.

We ended up purchasing two bags to take home and stuff full of baby necessities to see which one we liked better.  That made the decision easier.  I think we both leaned pretty heavily toward the same bag.  Of course, it was the more expensive of the two, but when we realized that we’d likely be carrying this bag a LOT for a number of years to come… the extra cost seemed insignificant.  In case you’re curious, this is the one we got.  It even has two outside pockets on the sides perfect for carrying bottles (my one secret, probably silly wish).

Now for the poll part:

For those of you who have children of the diaper bag age, what’s in your diaper bag?  ‘Fess up–are you the type who packs for every eventuality (4 extra pairs of socks, a snack for mom, baby Tylenol AND Motrin, 20 binkies…) or have you pared down to the essentials (diapers, wipes, butt cream–do you need anything else)?  Is there anything in there that you added after some incident taught you that you should carry it?  Would your list look any different if you were packing for a newborn?

I”m not necessarily looking for “you should definitely pack this” advice (everyone will have their own opinions and I’ll just get befuddled) but I’m curious to know what has worked for you.

For those of you who don’t have kids yet–leave me a comment if you’d like for me to publish a comprehensive diaper bag packing list when I’ve heard back from people.

p.s.  it’s oddly nice to realize that this particular dream is one that I probably would have had to give up no matter how a child came to join our family.  Hooray for non-adoption-specific angst!

the night before we were supposed to leave to drive to kentucky to visit my family for christmas, we got a call from C saying that she thought she was going into labor and was on her way to the hospital.  She’s only 27 weeks along, so there was panic involved all the way around.  We sat around for about an hour biting our fingernails and chomping at the bit and wondering if we were going to need to buy plane tickets.  Then, not wanting to be a pest, but wanting her to know that we were still there for her, I sent her a text message and she wrote back to say that the baby was fine and they weren’t sure why she was experiencing those symptoms, but they gave her some medicine and were keeping her overnight for observation.  She called a little later to reassure us again that everything was okay and i called her again from kentucky the next day and she was home already.  she’s supposed to just take it easy (maybe bedrest?  it wasn’t really clear to me.) for awhile and keep an eye out for more symptoms.

i think i’d feel better if i had a hospital bag all packed and ready to go.  eep!

“C” called this evening just as I pulled up to meet some friends for dinner.  I’d left messages for her yesterday and the day before that and hadn’t heard back and I was getting a teeny bit paranoid (why do I have to worry so much?), so it was good to get her call.  We chatted for about 20-30 minutes and I asked her about some dates in January when we’d like to come visit and she said she was looking forward to our visit.  She said she’d talked to her social worker at the adoption agency about how she’d really like to meet us before the baby comes because it might be weird to meet us for the first time when she’s in the hospital.  I agreed that it would be very nice to meet her before that and that we’re really looking forward to our visit.  I asked her if she wanted to have any input into the baby’s name and she told me the boy name she’s always loved and a few other significant names that we’ll add to the growing pile of possibilities*.  She told me about another upcoming doctor appointment she’s got and how she’s starting to get “a bump.”  it’s so different to talk about those things with her than it is to talk about them with other people.  I mean, if one of my other friends were pregnant and telling me that they were starting to get a bump (a belly) and that they were looking forward to an ultrasound where they could hear the heartbeat, I’d have to fight back residual jealousy issues.  It’s different when the baby that’s growing and heart-beating is the baby that may someday be MY baby.

I finally had to cut the conversation off so that my friends wouldn’t leave without me.  We promised to talk again soon.

*no, we’re not telling the names to you, dear readers!  just know that it won’t be Harry.  Those of you who know our last name will probably realize why that would not be a wise choice.  For a similar reason (and maybe for a few other reasons), I also don’t think we should use Monty.

we just got back from a great trip to visit j’s family out east.  we more or less didn’t leave the house the entire weekend–it was great!  the one time that we actually left the house (other than for a run or to go get pizza down the street) was on Friday when we decided to go to the local JoAnn fabric store for a few crafting supplies and to take advantage of some great sales.  We arrived, fully expecting looooong lines at the cutting counter, but got lucky in our timing and didn’t end up waiting at all!  One of the things we bought there was some fabric to make swaddling blankets and burp cloths.  My sister-in-law needed to make some for a friend of hers who has an upcoming baby shower and while I was there in the store with her, she asked if I wanted to pick out any flannels for our baby.  At first, I wasn’t sure… should I pick out boy fabric or be super safe and still go gender neutral?  She suggested I go for boy prints because if I end up with a girl, she can always give the boy fabrics to someone else.  So i found some cute fabric with cars and a great stripe print (of course).  Then, I found some MORE flannels in the quilter’s flannel section that I love-love-loved, but of course, those weren’t on sale.  sigh.  but I still just had to get them for myself.  As the fabrics were being cut at the cutting table, the woman behind me said, “those are nice, what are they for?”  and I replied that I was thinking of using them to make “baby stuff” but I wasn’t sure exactly what specific baby stuff they’d turn into.  And then I had to FIGHT the urge to explain that I wasn’t pregnant and that I hadn’t just had a baby and I even found myself wanting to lie and say, “It’s for a friend.”  Why?  Why in the world would I lie to her?  Why do I care if this random woman who lives halfway across the country thinks I might be pregnant?  I mean, I really don’t feel like saying, “It’s for the baby we might be adopting in March” because, well, that’s just too much information.  The woman behind me didn’t want (or need) to know that and I didn’t feel like getting into any sort of adoption conversation with her.  She actually ended up following up her comments a few moments later by saying, “It would make a lovely quilt” or something like that.  But… if I had been pregnant and due in March, would I have shared that good news with her?  And would I have felt obligated to follow up with an admonition not to get too excited for me because anything can happen between now and March?  Still working on that “to the wind” thing.  But four years of conditioning is hard to shrug off quickly.

a few weeks ago at my blessingway, one of my friends chose the word “caution.”  she was sort of apologetic for it and kept saying that she tried and tried to think of a different word, but this one was the word that kept surfacing and asking to be used.  she then elaborated and explained that she was giving the word to us in the sense of “throw caution to the wind.”  I’ve been thinking about that all week.  Every time someone congratulates us about our big news, my knee jerk reaction is to remind them that she could change her mind any time in the next four months and that nothing is certain and blah blah blah…. but another friend reminded me that there are similar uncertainties in pregnancy (it’s a panic not unique to adoption, just a different form*) and so maybe this excitement with a dose of trepidation is normal for all “expectant” parents.  I mean, even if everything goes smoothly and we bring home a baby in March, well, the trepidation will be somewhat justified because of the enormous upheaval our lives will take because we’re adding a new person to the household.

My sister called this week and encouraged me to go ahead and allow myself to get excited and to fall in love with this baby, but although I was touched by her phone call and her stories about how it took until a few weeks after her babies were born that she allowed herself to relax enough to fall in love with them, still it seems presumptuous of me to fall in love with a baby that is currently residing in someone else’s body.  Someone else that I haven’t even met yet.  Right now, he’s her baby.  This is her time to be his mommy.  If, when he is born, she decides that we are still the family she wishes to entrust her son to, then I’ll be able to relax enough to fall in love with him.  Until then, I’m just looking forward to being done with my school work so that I can actually dig in to really getting ready for a baby to arrive in my home (yes, the nursery looks somewhat ready, but we’re missing some key ingredients like clothes, diapers, sheets, bottles, pacifiers, and cute little baby hats.  Yep, I’m pretty sure that’s all we need.**).

I’m not sure I’ve succeeded at throwing caution to the wind YET, but I’ve got four more months to let that word, carved onto a little bird, take wings and fly, into the wind.

*in Dan Savage’s book The Kid he describes this dread as the fear of “BBD/BCM” (Baby Born Dead/Birthmother Change Mind).  A bit crude perhaps (it IS Dan Savage after all) but actually a somewhat useful acronym to sum up the biggest worries in this situation and, through humor, somewhat defuse them.

**for those of you who have asked, I think we’d prefer to wait to have a baby shower until after we bring a baby home.

about a week ago, we got a call from our Texas agency telling us that there was a birthmother* who was very excited about our profile and wanted to talk to us.  J took down the information while I flitted around the kitchen, freaking out a little and trying not to burn our dinner.  When he got off the phone, J took over the dinner preparation, and I took a few deep breaths, then dialed the number we’d been given.  I got voicemail.  Or, at least, I thought it was probably voicemail–it was really just  a recording of some music.  Not sure if I should leave a message, I hung up and called the agency to confirm that we had the right phone number.  Yes, it was correct.  So I called back and left a short message with our contact information.  In just a few minutes, she called back.  And we talked for two hours.  She talked to both J and me.  She told us how she’d been interested in our profile because we looked like “regular, normal people…. but a little bit goofy.  like me.”  We talked about big things (why she’s chosen to pursue adoption for her child) and small things (her favorite foods–apparently right now she’s into sour candy).  We laughed and tripped over each other’s words because we couldn’t talk fast enough.  She told us that she was having the gender-viewing sonogram in two days and that she was looking forward to finding out.  She told us she was due in March and we both laughed since J and I both have birthdays in March.  Finally, we said our goodbyes and both agreed that we’d enjoyed our conversation.

Two days later, I got another call from the Texas agency, this time while I was at work, telling me that she wanted to talk again.  I called.  She’d had the sonogram and wanted to tell us that she was having a boy.  and that he has a really round head.  We talked a little more and she told me that she wanted to spend a little more time deciding between us and another couple, but that she hoped to have an answer for us by next week.

I spent the weekend convincing myself that she wouldn’t choose us because I didn’t want to get my hopes up.  I spent the weekend convincing myself that she wouldn’t call until the following Thursday or Friday probably.  It’s a big life decision, not one to be made in a hurry.  I spent the weekend trying to curb my impatience and my dread.

On Monday, I was at a used bookstore picking out some titles for my nephews (shhhh…. Christmas gifts) and found a copy of the book “Happy Adoption Day” that’s based on the song by John McCutcheon.  It seems to focus a little more on international adoption, so I was waffling about whether or not to get it, but decided that since it was only 95 cents, I should just get it and add it to my own book collection.  Two minutes later, my cell phone rang.  I checked caller ID and it was her!  I answered the phone and she said she just wanted to call and tell us that she had picked us!  She picked us!  She’d called the agency to tell them and to get them to relay another message to me that she wanted to talk to me, but she got impatient and couldn’t wait for them to call me and for me to call back, so since she still had my phone number in her phone, she just called me directly to tell me.  She picked us!  She wanted to know if we wanted the sonogram picture for our scrapbook. (yes.)  She sent me a photo of herself taken with her cell phone.  She’s beautiful. and she picked us.

We got the rest of our paperwork the next day and faxed in our acceptance papers this morning.  We. are. matched.

*disclaimer:  technically, she’s not a birthmother until she has given birth AND signed the papers sealing her decision to choose adoption.  Until that time, she is just a mother.  But for convenience sake, I will refer to her as a birthmother for this story.

so way back when (probably about six weeks ago, when we were still in paperwork limbo), I’d occasionally read blog posts from other parents-in-waiting that talked about how they would call their agency/legal advisor/whoever was facilitating their wait and ask for an update.  Or maybe some agencies just volunteer that information every month or so, I’m not sure.  Anyway, I’d read their comments about how they’re torn between wanting to hear any news at all and being disappointed whenever the news is that nothing is happening.  My thoughts generally ran along the lines of, “well duh–if anything was happening, you’d probably hear from someone!  Why put yourself through that torture each month?  Do you think it will make you feel BETTER to hear that no one’s looked at your profile for the past six weeks?”

Now that I”m in the pool, I have a little more compassion and understanding of that craving for some information–ANY information about what’s going on.  Are there lots of birthmoms coming to the agency and looking and leaving or changing their minds?  Is it a slow time right now?  Not because I think that knowing the answer to these questions will bring us any closer to having a baby to bring home, but more because if I knew that it was slow right now at the agency, I’d be able to relax a little more.  Or if I heard that there was lots of buzz about our profile, but that so far everyone’s been insisting on matching with a Texas family, then that would be at least somewhat encouraging.

It’s this constant low level of vigilance that’s getting tiring.  Always having to think, “do I have my phone with me?  Is it turned on?  Is it charged?”  I admit that I do relax when it’s not office hours because I think there’s less of a chance that we’ll get called on the weekend, but I could get totally burned that way, I know.  It’s sort of like the monthly roller coaster, except that it could (literally) be ANY day now–not just a few days out of the month.  The edge is starting to wear off and I sometimes forget to remember that this really will happen.  someday.

Tomorrow marks one month since we first found out we were in the pool.  Next Wednesday marks exactly six months since we first talked to our social worker here in town.  It feels like we’ve been on this road longer.  Why do I have a feeling that the time between now and the day we become parents is going to feel as long and stretchy as an eternity of taffy?